Curlew Calls
When I walked the moors
Of the South Tyne Valley
Not knowing anyone
Within 150 miles
I hugged the very call
Of the curlew.
I watched them lift together
From fields by the banks
Of the river.
Once I peered over a drystone wall
And saw one right there
Before me.
Flying on my bike
Over bumping tarmac
Down the hill into Beltingham
They were burbling there, in the air.
The first time I heard them
Was on Coombs moss
In Derbyshire.
I wasn’t so alone then
And hindsight makes those calls
Sound like a portent.
Neil Campbell has two collections of short stories, Broken Doll, and Pictures from Hopper, published by Salt, and two poetry chapbooks, Birds, and Bugsworth Diary, published by Knives, Forks and Spoons. Recent stories in Short Fiction and Tears in the Fence. Other stories in the anthologies, Murmurations, and Best British Short Stories 2012. Has a chapbook of short fiction, Ekphrasis, with Knives, Forks and Spoons.