I woke earlier than usual this morning and, opening my email, found a message from my brother Rob. Attached to it were newspaper cuttings showing our Dad; my favourite is the one of him collecting the Film of the Year trophy from the Isle of Wight Cine Society. He loved the countryside and its wildlife; he also loved making his cinefilms.
Curious, then, that yesterday I caught this picture of the heron. I know he would have loved it. It also struck me that he would have liked two of the books which I have produced with Nicola: The Magic Makers and The Butterfly Magician.
I recall his bafflement when I told him of my love of poetry ("I thought it was just rhyme") but I'd like to think that my lines about the heron would have bridged that gap:
On smoke-grey wings, diaphanous and sleek,
Arose the heron with her lancing beak.
The photograph and article in the Isle of Wight Weekly Post are dated March 3rd, 1978. Sadly, he died on February 24th, 1979, aged 55. So far back, almost 40 years now. The black and white photograph holds him in a different era, almost out of touch.
I confess that I did have to brush away my tears. If only the heron could fly to him and show that one important part of him still lives on in me - even if it is in poetry!
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