Egret and Heron
Late afternoon, December, in the gloaming
across the bridge near the Willow Walk
a little egret: black beak, long black legs
startling yellow feet hidden in the grass.
I lift binoculars to see him more clearly
and there behind is a spectral follower
grey, more grey with white, bits of black
hints of yellow on the beak and legs.
I lower the glasses and he’s gone again
into reeds, drizzle, the coming night.
Grey heron, friend to mists and shadow,
doppelgänger, daemon, incubus
treading wetly in the other’s steps;
in my glasses he is there again
so that I wonder if he’s always there.
I learn he symbolises vigilance
perhaps he is the egret’s guardian angel.
What strength of glasses would I need
to see what lurks behind each one of us
what ghost, what angel, what foggy absence.