Fishing at Mill Woods

A Great White Egret stood on a branch
That stuck up from the mud,
As I approached he turned his head
To see who had just come.

He left his perch to slowly stride,
What seemed to be towards me.
As he approached he bent his neck
At such a sharp degree
It seemed that he would topple,
And sprawl amidst the weeds.

But come he did, walking slow,
Each step was so controlled.
I began to think as he got near
That I was going to see
That big bird open up his beak
And say some words to me.

The he turned and hopped and jumped,
Flapped his wings and moved
In what seemed like a splashing dance,
He glanced over once, did I approve?

The all at once he jabbed and poked
Into the muddy pool
And came up with a thrashing fish
And I came up a fool.


2 Responses to Fishing at Mill Woods

  1. Pingback: Species Speak Stanzas | Poetry by Don Segal

  2. Pingback: A Casual Birder’s “Big Year” | Poetry by Don Segal

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