DUNLINS

Dunlins only have two speeds

And no reverse. They cycle tidelines

Like eight year olds out of control

On spoke-blurred legs. Or, perverse,

They stand quite still, one leg down

And dream – about food probably.

Ah well, small life needs feeding, sleeping,

Then one day there’s the shock of surprise

At an empty bay, and silence,

And our sadness at their leaving.

Hamish Brown