Alighted on Eucalypt, the evening breeze
Ruffles his feathers
And tussles the rusting wind chime.
Crooked beak, bushy brow.
Erudite eyes, now lidded,
Whose piercing gaze latches
To all who scamper in the night.
Father and daughter,
Barefoot on yellow grass,
Squinting in the waning light.
Father tending tomatoes intermittently -
Awaiting the beast’s imminent flight.
Daughter, nested amid nasturtiums,
Observes lines and curves
Of mottled feathers and curled claws,
Yet patience wanes as mosquitoes descend.
Closer, closer
She creeps, she croons:
Hoot…hoot…
A discordant reveille.
Dusk extends her rosy fingers across the horizon,
Petals nestled into buds for the night,
And still the pair remains
Despite wafting aromas from kitchen windows.
A flicker of amber: two wide, round eyes.
Now toey, extending a mottled wing –
Languid, leisured –
Like a sail to ride the currents
Of the balmy evening breeze.
Father and Daughter,
Captivated
Chatter and fluster.
He peruses the pair
With one eye:
Pale and fleshy – strange creatures.
He pays them no mind
And lifts his wings,
Eliciting gasps from bellow.
Claws depart from Eucalypt, and he alights.
Soars.
Flies
But a foot
And nestles into leaves of a neighbouring branch.
Farrago Magazine - 11 May 2017