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Walking to the bus stop

after a hospital visit,

in an unfamiliar, dusty suburb,

I pass a small park on the left

with a stream which dives

under the road, and here

only a few feet away, by the water,

is a heron — surely larger than life

and with each feather accurately modelled.

I think how grateful we should be

that some municipal person

has commissioned this work of art

and placed it where it can give pleasure

to passers-by. But startlingly

a breeze flutters the bird’s feathers,

and it slowly turns its head,

so that we find ourselves gazing at each other.

It is so exciting that I want to stop someone

and share this marvel

but no one is handy, and in the end

I calm down and walk to the bus stop

like someone just having an ordinary day.