Hosted a fun BRWF event – a fundraiser – Saturday 7pm 10 August 2013 – Bellingen Memorial Hall, Winter Tales (not as funny but more PC than Seth MacFarlane).
Saturday Aug 10
Our feathers and our wings, our bodies’ strength
Are quite unequal to the journey’s length.
Farid al-Din Attar, The Conference of the Birds
Red light through the trees shifts to orange, as the shy
swamp wallaby springs out of our garden and bounces
back into the forest, almost like a plane trying to take off.
The rustling stops us in our/on the track(s)
in the undergrowth darkness, movement of leaves,
the eyes slowly adjusting, a ball of fluff, dark chestnut brown
with the bright creamy line of the oversized bill gaping
following the whirlwind of leaves being excavated
and tossed into the air. After a few minutes
mother comes into view, a Logrunner with her orange bib
who bows to feed her fledgling, one day imagining
wings that soar perhaps, someone, might anyhow
thinking the grass is greener . . .
Reading a poem in the Memorial Hall, asking the audience
to close their eyes . . . “the golden Regent Bowerbird
and volatile Scarlet Honeyeater, but it is the haptic
and aural that interest you – a White-throated Treecreeper
tapping lightly . . .
On the Bellingen road, lights on full beam travelling at eighty
in a hundred, a flash of white fingers as a Barn Owl
banks sharply away from this heavy blue weapon
my foot about to lift off to hit the brake, too late
it was so close, we found one dead fresh kill by the side
of the road up to Dorrigo. Roadkill is most people’s view.
No matter how far the birds fly, very few sanctuaries remain
free from habitat loss, cats and dogs, cars and poisons,
love is in their song and colours.