Blade thin herons wait,
Secreted in the reed beds,
Striking at silver.
On the way back from Arsenal smashing Spurs 5-2, I sat on the train looking out of the window as I often do. Between Harpenden and Luton Airport Parkway station, the train passes over what looks like an old English country scene, apart from any built up area. With a hamlet and millhouse alongside a meandering lazy river, even lazier tributaries feeding it. It was in one of these tributaries I saw two herons, standing still, amongst the reeds. I like Herons, there’s something fragile and elegant about them. And that beak built for fishing makes them look slightly prehistoric.
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