Heron

Cold, shoulder hunched, pre-historic looking heron sits canal side nurturing her reflection.
Meanwhile white skinned naked ape, somehow from Africa, also cold, shoulder hunched and dressed in grey, sits opposite.
Man, call him Sam, pulls out new age plastic square and takes electronic painting of heron.
"Clearly" he things "she is breaking the 'no fishing' laws.
Heron looks up, stares at man.  "Clearly" she thinks "he is an idiot".

Burns Night

The low, frosty light
Glares through gradients of sky
As I walk between blue tits
Magpies resting high

We all sing together
A cheery, golden song
As if the spring, here forever
Instead of winter long

But hasten thee to think
I wish it to be warm
For I would love nothing more
Than the snow of the Cairngorn

Early, we would rise
My lover and I
Climb the perthshire hills
Until the days we die

Through the dark winter power
The shine of long lived moon
A dram of whisky every hour
To bed from afternoon

We walk to feel the crisp, fresh air
Rosy cheeks and wind swept hair
We walk to see the handsome glen
The tartan kilts of brazen, copper men
We sit to feel the fire trickle down our throats
Taste the vegan haggis made with Scottish oats

So raise a glass...
Not so summer heat or the lightness of spring
But to real highland pete and raven wing

Raise a glass for frost, wind and snow
For red hair, red whisky and the fire's red glow
Like the mountain path raise that glass high for life's twists and turns
Then drink the contents dry for MR ROBBIE BURNS!