The heron, made of iron, had aged rusty,
quite beautifully so.
The heron’s vital long toes, always a little ungainly, left more so
by weather and time.
The heron, fallen and lost in the undergrowth, had
never been forgotten.
Today, the heron stands tall again, looking up to a sky that is
Its rusty wings loosening to willow,
and the sparkling Tay is there!