Nana Ollerenshaw: Three Poems

Streetbird

Brush turkeys have migrated from the brush

to take up their new habitat with us

like pigeons must have once

and sparrows who share coffee.

They peck on asphalt now.

Megapodes don’t need

their giant feet for this.

But something’s sad about them,

unconnected to a place where they were wild once,

the peaty earth their own, leaf mounds,

stars on forest nights

exchanged for this concrete.

Nana Ollerenshaw

Men on Bikes

Bikes lean

stopped at cafes

where the men

hang out, brothers

bright as birds,

shorts that show

the curve of braided muscle,

sculptured thigh.

Who knows how far

behind them lies

the ribbon of their wheels

from years of sharing talk

roads and sweat,

dawns, fatigue,

a spank of tyre on the wet.

Yesterday’s Bike Ride

The blue day lingers

after the gravel road,

the hills,

the valley filled with cane,

after the country homes,

the cluck of fowl,

the scrunch of tyres

and always the road

spelling the heat and the…