The Common Snipe

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.


London Wetlands Centre

January 2020