The Grey Heron Poem by Francis Duggan

The Grey Heron



The grey heron for hours on end is standing
In the quiet pool with water to his knees
With head cocked to strike he scans the moonlit waters
For small trout who might swim out from shade of trees.

Till eventually his great patience is rewarded
A troutling unconcerned swims his way
A quick dart of his head there's little struggle
And in one gulp he swallows down his prey.

The quick snatched meal does little for his hunger
There's many more fish there for him to eat
In shallows of river pool he stands silent
The cold waters lapping around his feet.

The grey herons in flight seem slow and awkard
But as fisher birds with patience they have skill
They wait for hours in the slow shallow waters
And they won't miss their opportunity to kill.

In moonlit stream at border of quiet meadow
In shallows of pool partly shaded by trees
The patient heron waits for his next victim
With water lapping around his spindly knees.

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