The Common Snipe
- Details
- Written January 2020
They stood there gawking, staring, gazing -
Twitchers out to find something different;
Gaping through the downstairs window glass,
Magnifying me with a zooming lens
Piercing the morning mists that hang
Silent over the waters of a shivering day,
Insulated in the depths of winter.
When all I want is to wriggle and hide,
Camouflaged from the world beyond,
Nestled among bank-side twigs and grass,
Hidden as though I didn’t exist
And belong nowhere but to myself,
Until I see the grub moving,
So my curved beak pecks - and they snap me.
January 2020