Curlew Hunting Worms​
by Meg Wiseman​
He raised his stick leg, ​
flapped the foot and froze,​
below the mud flat washed with surf,​
a tide of white sea,​
revealing textured sludge,​
a slight movement,​
then jab and jab and jab again, ​
he thrust that long and​
slender bill, a bow like beak,​
a curving weapon and​
mud and slim and worm emerge​
to slither down that hollow tool.​