Walking to the bus stop
after a hospital visit,
in an unfamiliar, dusty suburb,
I pass a small park on the left
with a stream which dives
under the road, and here
only a few feet away, by the water,
is a heron — surely larger than life
and with each feather accurately modelled.
I think how grateful we should be
that some municipal person
has commissioned this work of art
and placed it where it can give pleasure
to passers-by. But startlingly
a breeze flutters the bird’s feathers,
and it slowly turns its head,
so that we find ourselves gazing at each other.
It is so exciting that I want to stop someone
and share this marvel
but no one is handy, and in the end
I calm down and walk to the bus stop
like someone just having an ordinary day.