For dverse. I was writing a poem about oystercatchers, so this prompt seemed apposite.
Oyster
Deep water, dark and silent flows,
where waving weed and fishes dart,
and hidden rainbowed pearl shell glows.
Deep water, dark and silent flows,
though storm and icy north wind blows,
and moon pearl light warms ocean’s heart,
deep water. Dark and silent flows
the waving weed, where fishes dart.
Catcher
So many hunters haunt the deeps
in lake weed hid, the perch and pike,
in deep shade where the willow weeps.
So many hunters haunt the deeps;
where night is king and daylight sleeps,
pike darts, a deadly lighning strike.
Though many hunters haunt the deeps,
in lake weed hide, the perch and pike.
Oystercatcher
Birds wade their world, a liminal space,
magpie-dappled and never still,
on mirror sands walk with pied grace.
Birds wade their world, a liminal space,
cast magpie eye on death. They race
to turn the tide, sift pearls until
birds wade their world, this liminal space,
magpie-dappled and never still.
The Four Swans 