Bagbird

Maybe a love poem? Mimsmere is a bird sanctuary in Suffolk England.

Minsmere morning, watching from the quiet of the highest hide

To see the Bittern passing and the Marsh Harrier: each alone

And it seemed a certain distance between us too.

 

Then past the reed-controlling Korvik horses and the foal:

Beyond the great sluice swirling on the balance

Between the reach and ebb of tide.

So returning along the worn rounded beach of stones

String-fenced to protect the pebble eggs of the Sand Piper

And the rarer Little Tern.

There amongst the far shingle I pointed out to you

A single darkness which stood near the horned salt poppy and some tide weathered fern.

A larger, distinct and different bird, ebony gloss feathered

Preening repeatedly and drawing its nest together with a black-beaked head on long and agile neck.

So looking together we could not identify the strangeness

Nor did we know its name

And so I turned back to ask another watcher

But before I did you called

And showed me how the neck was

But a bin-liner strip shaking and flapping in the wind

That stirred the hair around your laughing face.

And as instant as the box illusion turns inside out

The strange bird took flight before your reality and vanished

To become but an empty ragged wind filled bag.

So too what I had seen as anger spun it’s perception round

Mingling its colours to reveal

That it was really and was simply love.

Author's Note

Mimsmere is a bird sanctuary in Suffolk England.