We walked through the wetland to the beach this morning, coming at it from a different angle. A storm was forecast, with heavy rain and high winds, but when we set out it was still cloudy and dry.
There by the cliff wall I spotted a blue heron. It stood motionless, then bent down to catch a little fish. Then it stalked a few steps with great dignity.

The wind turned, the rain began to pelt us, and we ran for cover. Meanwhile the heron stayed calm and still, unperturbed.

I think of how Dylan Thomas compared the herons to priests in the poem he wrote for his [30th?] birthday:
‘Herons spire and spear’. I think of how the heron points the way, reminding me to maintain a still centre even in the midst of storms.

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