Birds are worth a poem
they are so diverse in color and song
and shape. The kookaburra, so sedate
on a bough, laughs heartily for what it has ate.
The determined magpie, swooping in anger,
cares nought for pedestrians it has roused to ire;
the majestic eagle, riding a thermal,
shows that free flight is completely normal.
The willy wagtail, so jaunty and gay,
sings spooky at night and reproachful, tsk, tsk, by day.
They should come closer, there is no need to fly away.

Reg Naulty.