Grus Grus

From the furze, the gorse
Below Cuilcagh,
I see a crane
Lope into the sky.

A flattering
Of flapping, indolent
Claps – wings,
Their tips, feathery

Fronds, black,
Then white, flowing
Up, down, regular
As pistons

Driving her
Towards the sun.
Beneath clouds, over
Hills, brambles,

Whitebeam, she floats,
Indifferent surveillance,
Indifferent scrub,
Cambering, andante,

Stick-legged – above.

Rodney Cranston is an Enniskillen native who, after working away for some time, recently returned to the area. An English Literature Graduate of Queens Belfast, he has a longstanding interest in poetry, and started to try to write his own a couple of years ago. He is interested in shorter poetic forms, enjoys art, music, film and the natural world, and admires the work of Gluck, Heaney, Plath along with many, many others.

Image: by Steve Garvie from Dunfermline, Fife, Scotland via Wikimedia CC SA 2.0