Here’s a lovely poem by Jonathan Humble.

The Heron

I have to say it troubles me
to see a heron in a tree;
to watch it balance on a stick
at heights that make me feel quite sick.

They have those legs that don’t look strong;
that seem too thin and over-long.
And if a breeze shook up that tree,
a sticky end I could foresee.

Now if I was that gangly bird,
with legs that look to me absurd,
I wouldn’t stand and risk my neck,
so very high above the deck.

I think the cautious route I’d take,
reduce the risk, make no mistake.
Yes, I’d adopt a safe technique;
I’d sit and cling on with my beak.