Curlew

High above, the curlew swam in big blue’s deep cool.
Then, with its spec of sound 
(A cry that cut the air and chiseled the heart),
It sank deeper into the deep.
Its cry pointed, sharply, at all the solitary souls 
In the land’s own solitude.
The tearful, tearing song dripped its grief on heather.
It echoed and echoed in the walkers’ minds.
Saying: Leave us! Leave us alone! 
This is not your land.
Find your own place to wander.
This province is sacred to us.
To ourselves alone.
We’ve sailed this land for more centuries than you’ll ever know.