The British Properties and the Heron

At the ferry berth

A chain link fence
Separated me

From the rocks

And a heron

Painted, like the waves and clouds,
Shades of October grey.

A sunlit patch

On the North Shore hills:

The British Properties.

Hundreds of homes

Stacked up the slope,

Striving to be the most aloof
And those inside,
Striving for the good life.

The heron stretched its neck to preen
And my heart went out to it,

Then carried on to the hills,

To their dwellers.
May they succeed.

Photo from Wikimedia Commons