Saturday, December 31, 2016

Wagtails wag their tails warily,

Wagtails wag their tails warily,
Stonechats chatter,
Storks talk about it,
And magpies natter,
In both Eurasian and Iberian tones;
but, these species are not alone,
And down on the strand,
Things are getting out of hand.
Turnstones have turned every stone,
Sad sandpipers pipe despairing laments,
Grebes, shag and cormorant all duck and dive,
But snipe do not snipe,
They swerve, dodge and sneak away,
Through reeds and sedge at the water’s edge
Gulls rise in skeins
From the slipway,
And ride the wind out over the cape,
To join the wild geese,
Far, far away
For exile is their destiny.
Since none can cope,
With prying bins and scopes.
Birds are themselves,
And do not exist,
Just to be ticked off,
On your list.


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