HERON

Here hunts heron. Here haunts heron.
  Huge-hinged heron. Grey-winged weapon.

Eked from iron and wreaked from blue and
  beaked with steel: heron, statue, seeks eel.

Rock still at weir sill. Stone still at weir sill.
  Dead still at weir sill. Still still at weir sill.
  Until, eelless at weir sill, heron magically…
  unstatues.

Out of the water creaks long-legs heron,
  old-priest heron, from hereon in all sticks and planks
  and rubber-bands, all clanks and
  clicks and rusty squeaks.

Now heron hauls himself into flight – early
  aviator, heavy freighter – and with steady
  wingbeats boosts his way through evening
  light to roost.