A curlew steps out of the shadows,
tentative on slender legs
delicate as stalks the wind could bend
or break; its wary eye a shaman's
skewed half-moon observing me intently -
unnerving while edging closer
out of cloud-encrypted dunes.
The strange bird mesmerises
with its enigmatic gaze,
a courier, embodying
the songlines of an ancient place,
camouflaged to merge
with stripping eucalypts
and moonlit sands.
When I leave,
three curlews like three fates
assume heraldic stance,
dilated x-ray eyes scan
inner histories at a glance.
Envoys from the realm of spirits,
gatekeepers of memory:
I heard them in the night, their voices
keening women, destiny…