1 Those throaty wattlebirds, What do they gargle? The flame-trees’ nectar? A fragrant breeze? Sunlight? 2 The origami moon, A paper-white egret. It thermals gently On the morning’s blue. 3 Spoonbills in the paperbarks. Below them the lake deploys A vast expanse of sky, Mirrorous, full of water-birds. 4 The crow’s eye is Arctic, Feathers like black permafrost. Not even this balmy day Can melt its disposition.
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