Green Sandpipers
(River Crouch – Creeksea Essex.) 


I thought they were house mar­tins :
flut­te­ring along the tide line –
dan­cing their horn­pipes.

But no – they were sand­pi­pers :
green sand­pi­pers
bet­ween here and there –

the far north and the far south.
Migrants in my beau­ti­ful
       river val­ley,

sha­ring my August mor­ning –
my sum­mer reve­rie.
Would I migrate if I could ?

For now I will share my trea­sure :
my gol­den fields,

the sil­ver – shim­me­ring tide.
They zig-zag far up river
       at a whim

     and I am left
– like all who live in time –
with absences and madri­gals of light.