Ron Wilkins: ‘The nature of things’

The nature of things

In general, none of the things with a given natural property
can be trained to acquire another.
— Aristotle, Ethics Book 2

While I’m sitting at the kitchen table, she comes bustling
through the doorway, squawking at my feet.
Pushed her away again. Reluctantly I follow her,
sit down to supervise while she re-joins him at the bowl.

Like children, the rainbow lorikeets are well behaved—
while watched. Wild, but fearless for they know
I’m under their control, they brush their beaks and breasts
against my hand, plunge heads into the jar in haste to get the grain.

Distracted by a thought, I turn my head. With a shriek
and sideways thrust of claw he pushes her aside.
I take away their bowl. They stand quiet, stretched tall,
their bodies bent like question marks, heads to one side.

The bowl placed back again they eat, to all appearance
amicably—for now. I ask myself, what trickery
led me into this tangled triangle? Fool that I am,
why not admit they’ll never change their nature?

But reason flees when beauty dazzles.
I should have learned from Aristotle when he pointed out
no matter how much trained with countless upward throws,
a stone, true to its nature, always falls when dropped.

Ron Wilkins