six wheatear, in transit for winter sun.
Chasing, and flitting from stone to stone
they perch, unwary, flash bright white rumps.
three flocks of white wagtail, delayed by fog.
Skimming the rotting seaweed heaps
they refuel on hoppers, spiders, flies.
one godwit, caught in a restless crowd.
Probing soft mud at the water’s edge
it mingles with curlews, plovers, gulls.
eight brent geese, home to familiar shores.
Touching down onto gentle waves,
splashing, they preen and bathe, then rest.
Published in Southlight 15 (Spring 2014)
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