With head of brilliant blue
And composition bright and fair,
The fairy wren with jaunty flit
Hops and bounces through the air.
With head of brightest red
And flight of speed and swerve
The rosella glides on brilliant wings
In dipping, parabolic curve.
In his suit of black and white
And rising heavily from the ground,
The magpie flies with a swish
Of muscular, purposeful sound.
His song is a monotonous caw,
His feathers are dull and black,
But the crow still rises into the air
In slow, direct and functional flap.
O some pour forth liquid song,
Some have plumage bright,
Some do flit and some do soar,
Some are blessed with speed of flight.
Crow, wren or hawk, I love them all,
So I raise my head to stare
In silent praise and wonderment
As they slip and glide through the silken air.
