FLOCKS

The dancer Nijinsky appreciated Russia's fauna and flora.

Who hears the cry of the crake
blue-grey head    chestnut wings
in the morning over the still lake
it sings

Who hears the flap-flap-glide of the hawk
its talon beak   red-barred throat
as it slips between branches to stalk
the stoat

Who hears the stocky pintail snipe
foraging in soft mud for worms or snails
then pecking the weeds for a bite
among the shale

Who sees the grey hunter tern
picking insects off the surface of the mere
then diving like a bullet to return
to your fear

You in your Russian hat and scarf
your smile trapped in a grimace
half agony half laugh
on your avian face.

Published by Original Plus in Corridors

SHOO

FLOCKS

DUSK OWL