Stone Curlew

 

The scrape, like hare, of pebble bird:

As fawn and cream as flint in church.

The jaundiced, yellow eye will blink

As mirage dews pour through the fen.

 

The field was first, the bird was first,

The sky reflected breck was first:

The yellow eye had snapped them shut.

The clouds of dawn turned iris bright.

 

The lines of earth, of dyke, of hedge,

Formed islands, merged and took the sea.

It watched it all, the yellow eye:

It watched it from its field of stone.

 

Beneath the dust which birthed its calls,

A wary bird ducks low to earth.

 

 

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6 Comments to “Stone Curlew”

  1. You work this form so beautifully. This poem has a mystical quality I really enjoyed.

  2. Funny, the “yellow eye” made me think of a turtle! I know that’s not what you were writing about, but I got the sense of earth, and I felt the eye, which made me think of Turtle Island (the Native American myth of how the earth originate, i.e. on the back of a turtle)… I think it was because I got such a good sense of the EARTH from your poem … I like that.

  3. if a bird was reading this they would say “dark, creepy”
    You give that dark, stalking feel in this well written piece of poetry

  4. I picture the bird, the moor, the “yellow eye”. A wonderful write, full of imagery.

  5. I so enjoy how you write of the natural world. Wonderful.

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