A woman looking at a grey heron looking at fish

I saw her majesty today

She stood on a stone in the river Rhône

Tall -a meter at least- svelte, straight, and commanding

Time belongs to her, she knows no haste

She stands motionless, observing the fish swim in her range

She lets them be

Is she not hunting? I wonder

How and when does she choose her prey?

Is it size, velocity, appeal?

One after the other the fish swim close, I see them jump, unaware of her majesty’s peril

Finally, she extends her wings, throws her neck forward and plunges

And in one single act, she spears her prey with her beak

Gracefully she flutters away, she has made a living again

And I?