Week 1
Two redshanks step neatly, bills dipping.
Orange legs at the edge of the creek, moving in time to the rhythm of feeding.
The water flows past, carrying the rippling reflection of a spring sky.
It is now April. A few hours later, the tide will turn, and it will return holding the moonlight within it.
On a post near the water’s edge, a solitary redshank calls.
The piping whistle part of a growing symphony. It is time to be looking for a mate.
If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.