The sparkling Tay is there!

The heron, made of iron, had aged rusty,
quite beautifully so.

The heron’s toes, always a little ungainly, bent awkward
by weather and time.

The  heron, fallen and lost in the undergrowth, but
 not forgotten.

Today, the heron stands tall again, looking up to a sky that is
not little!

Its rusty wings once again loosening to willow:
and the sparkling Tay is there!


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