Marsh Mayhem

The reeds rustle audibly in the wind

Like the flutter of birds on the wing.

Sedge warblers sing territorial songs

While out of sight a Bittern booms.

I still have half my packed lunch of soggy sandwiches.

Should I eat or feed the mallards that view me with intent?

The Mallards win and squabble over my discarded meal.

I pack away my lunch box and drain the flask of tea,

What was that, seen from the corner of my right eye?

Putting the binoculars to eye level I scour the reed beds.

There, I see it, Marsh Harrier on its evening patrol

Seeking the unwary among the restless birds.

One of the sedge warblers has just delivered its swan song.

Colin Beardshall 2013.