Heron and Gulls

The heron manoeuvres its slow galleon-sails,

writhes its proud neck,

as the attack

of the quick-winged hounds,

sharp-circling sloops, prevails

forcing it from its fishing-grounds.

Nature’s brutal economy holds a mirror

to human doing,

unflattering

comparison

to shame us, but no error—

naked image of what gets done.

And yet those silent weavings in the air

are beautiful—

sad, an old tale,

fable, romance…

False?  But there’s something there,

the beauty’s there.  A kind of dance.