Page 79 - שבילים גיליון 22 | ציוני דרך

Ode to Wrybill Doc Drumheller
O, Wrybill,
I have seen you
in the ossuary
of your ancestors
where your bones
are littered
like the flotsam
and jetsam
of the braided river
named the sky turned round reflecting the down
of this small pale plover.
They say you
aren't charismatic
enough for kiwis
to care about
as your numbers
dwindle down
to around
two thousand
but what does
a kiwi know anyway
for you are the only
bird in the world
with a beak bent sideways that always swipes right
to forage for mayfly larvae underneath the rocks
of your tombstones.
Your instinct tells you
to freeze as still
as your ancestors
whose rib bones
cracked like spindle twigs spread in the shingle wracked by the weight
of recreational
four wheel drivers
arriving on the weekend unaware of your eggs camouflaged in the greywacke of your graveyard.
77 I22גיליוןIשביליםI