Black cockatoos passed
overhead on their way
West yesterday, six in the
flock, flapping a slow
languor in pedantic
sweeps of their articulate
wings, conversing in thin,
eerie ‘skree’, ‘skree’
echoes as they laboured
in the lean, dry air.
If legend had it correct
there would be rain today
where cautious ants vacate
their nests – scurrying in
black swarms to higher
ground, heeding the birds
warning. To be fair I never
believed the fable anyway
until it started to rain this
morning – quite heavily.
© 21 May 2007, I.D. Carswell
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