winter migrants
04/28/2026 14:58h
a mass of moth-eaten cloud
threadbare and spun across
a bullish moon
an animal wakes
when I walk in winter,
wrapped against
a withering wind,
solitary,
on a Solway flat
winter migrants gather
in long black lines
along a silver sleek
heads held back,
throats
thrust toward
an onshore rush
occasionally cruciform,
static
in a flying wind
as though
in obeisance
to the sea
retracing steps
washed out
by whimpering silt
each tide a season
in the pecking mall
they call as I approach,
an upright spelk
on their shelf,
gathering my notes
and theirs
we scavenge
ahead of our shadows
waiting for what
the tide brings in
or leaves out
purple,
hedged cloud
edged gold
hung
on silver slates
of sand
diverted
leaps of light
surrender water
risen
from rivulets
roughed
from rage
repealing waves
repeat
a curlew’s
estuary echo
who,
but you
and the wind’s
wake?