Some people
call me ‘thick knees’,
But, the
middle joints of my long yellow legs
Are not
excessively large, in my opinion.
My legs match
my unblinking yellow eye
And compliment
my camouflage plumage.
Some people
call me ‘stone curlew’,
But I’m no
sort of curlew at all.
I have no long
curved beak
To probe mud
for tiny crustaceans,
And I sing
no plaintive song,
When I do
aviation.
My call is
like a hinge squeaking in the wind,
Or two rusty
knives scraping together.
Few people
ever see me
As I sit low
among scrub and stones’
They have to
seek me out
With high
powered telescopes.
Then through
a lens you can look at me
And I’ll
look right back at you,
With my yellow
unblinking eye.
Call me all
the names you want
Even use Latin
too,
I’ll just give
you a yellow-eyed stare,
Because that’s
what I do.
