THE HERON
THE HERON
There is a heron who lives by the railway tracks just before the bridge as you get to the station. He lives among the bulrushes in a pond. Sometimes he stands facing the train, sometimes he stands facing the other way. Sometimes it is day, sometimes it is night. The railway tracks have enclosed him in his own private kingdom. Emperor in his own enclosure. Imprisoned but getting on with it. Sometimes he stands facing the train, sometimes he stands looking the other way. Sometimes it is day, sometimes it is night. Sometimes people eat McDonalds in the carriage as they pass him by, sometimes they’re asleep. Sometimes it is raining, sometimes there’s sun. Sometimes the moon is out. Sometimes cloudy. Sometimes the foliage is wintry. Sometimes autumnal. I wonder what he is doing right now as I lay in bed probably under a mile from where he is?