Ptarmigan
A rasping voice in
An empty coire:
‘aast, aaast…’
Furtive movement
In the rocks,
Three white anchorites
Creep silently away,
A trinity of
Ptarmigan.
Wariness and
Heather seeds
Their rule:
A hermit
Life in snow
And rock.
Shot by the
Callous,
Disturbed by the
Careless.
Ice-Age
Survivors,
Their rasp
Becomes
Ominous:
‘Laast…last…’
Without that
Crackle,
The cold
Stony Coire
Falls silent
And still.
Cover image: Year of the Ptarmigan, mixed media. © Vojta Hýbl