Curlew

another oldie

Wary-eyed bird, walk at the edge of nowhere;

Slender-foot, delicate, on shiny sand,

Seeking for sustenance in this strange beauty.

Lonely your wings lift o'er the cold wet strand.

Shy of the voice of man, shy of his footfall;

Shy of his fingers, which can twist and clutch,

Squeezing your life, moulding it to the dreary;

Freedom you name not, yet you flee man's touch.

Child of the wild wind's yearning, dabbling in shallows,

Walk solitary, from our paths apart.

Wing through the lonely spaces, shores forgotten;

Cry out the freedom of the lonely heart!