Curlew Memories Poem by David Devereux
Curlew Memories
The plaintive cry of the curlew
is sadly, heard no more
on the bleak and windswept moor
I wandered as a child long ago.
But now, as I walk the heathered upland,
in my mind's ear I hear it calling,
like a ghostly spirit whistling
on the wind of sixty, lost forever years.
Tuesday, November 19, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: nature
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3/14/2026 6:15:18 PM # 1.0.0
