Sat above the quayside On a red tiled roof The old grey heron Feathers blown askew in the wind Croaks and groans in low tones South-westerly keening up the lake Bright blue above What’s his game? Waiting, watching Always waiting He’s waiting still . CLP 12/11/2019
Sat above the quayside
On a red tiled roof
The old grey heron
Feathers blown askew in the wind
Croaks and groans in low tones
South-westerly keening up the lake
Bright blue above
What’s his game?
Waiting, watching
Always waiting
He’s waiting still
.
CLP 12/11/2019
Journey of Words 