Not Our Wagtail by Richard Martin

          Little trotty wagtail, you nimble all about,
          And in the dimpling water-pudge you waddle in and out.
          John Clare

In white shirt-front and black waistcoat, he certainly is nimble ,
strutting business-like over the rocks by the pool –
but he's far too correct and trim to waddle anywhere,
the elegant avian version of the city gent.

I think of him as our wagtail, in that possessive way
we talk about our oak, our weeds, our flowers --
so we go on imposing ourselves upon nature,
rather than seeing ourselves as just part of the scene.

Maybe we should think of our garden as a delightful
and varied community of living beings, where we share
air and light, sun and moon, with ants and mice,
dandelions and dragonflies, and indeed with wagtails.



Richard Martin is an English writer who lives in the Netherlands close to the point where Belgium, Germany and Holland meet. After retiring as a university teacher in Germany, he turned his attention to writing, and has published three collections of poetry and numerous poems in magazines in England, the US, and Austria.