As I was on the river,
one cool and sunny day,
I watched a better angler,
as they made their play.
The bittern slowly stalking,
along the shallow shore,
caused me to pause my talking,
and see what it was going for.
The calculated movement,
every slow and careful step,
brought us to this moment,
for which the bird had prepped.
It’s calm belied its quickness,
as with a turn it dove,
and I was there to witness,
when it brought the fish above.
A small and wriggling bream,
trying to shake free,
and on the bittern wades upstream,
a better angler than me