While visiting the ancient fortified town of Chinon in the Touraine region of the Loire Valley, I noticed examples of both kinds of protagonists mentioned in this poem. Although the latter proved harmless (at least to our group) I much prefer the former, especially at sundown.
 

Great White Heron

 

A great white heron struts through

tangled water meadows

in search of boneless morsels:

 

eyes fixed, silent in stealth,

its dagger-beak sudden

doom for fry and fingerlings;

 

now stops, stretches shuddering,

lifts alabaster wings asplay,

and springs in air,

 

stick-legs dangling, describes

a leaping spiral, its neck retracted

in an 'S' of disdain;

 

indifferent to hungry

short-toed eagles,

gliding above, silently.

 

Below, on the damp reed-bed's

prospect, made jagged by sedges

and smoothed by quiet waters,

 

the big white bird alights as

day falters; becomes

by degrees a shadow puppet,

 

intricately displayed as

a rich screen silhouette

by the brief and falling sun;

 

the wide Vienne at Chinon,

for a moment a dimmed backdrop

to une ombre chinoise.

 

On its darkling concrete banks

human predators stir, quietly

fingering dagger-blades,

 

seem to hunt their prey

for an evening feed,

shrinking from last light

 

as eagle-eyed gendarmes

pick out a crouching figure

on a grassy levee:

 

torch lights, shouted orders;

another boneless morsel

in the bag.

 

Chris Hubbard

Chinon, France

2016