by Ion Corcos
Stout feet at low tide
grip an outcrop,
washed by wind and sea.
Long red bill under a limpet,
pries shell off rock,
exposes flesh.
Next, a mussel
probed, stabbed, pierced,
carried to an anvil.
Hammers the crust,
swallows the body,
drinks sea water.
Flies off,
a high pitched call
tleepa
tleepa
9 comments:
Catch of the day ;) great poem, Ion. Best, Lise x
I like the way you described these birds, Ion. Quite aggressive in their own way! Your poem took me back to the Australian coast, seeing them on the rocks. Lisa :)
Thanks for your kind comments, Lise. :)
Thanks, Lisa. :)
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