Poetry from the Creek: To Be Freed

The idea’s to be freed of a rictus you’d probably

see quite innocently induced; perhaps an effect

of the study’s cooler air, or must we correct that

impression - actually a spare bedroom & where

th’ broadband satellite connection’s at; anyway,

to be creatively outside in a clear air & blue sky

asks more of sangfroid you’ve yet to develop to

compensate for problems with resolution of the

pc screen - they’re issues you’re well aware of;

and then there’s irreverent howling of airplanes

flying low overhead, and the midges - not biting

yet but won’t be far away; - and two crows who,

believing y’ need encouragement, proffer ideas

from nearby trees raucously dissenting in what,

clearly their view, they consider matters most -

& then occasional rooster statements made by

sources ranging north & west of here, & who’re

less offensive in their commentary; pleasant if it

comes to that, not as incessant as that litany of

macho-poetic cawing-with-intent corvus abuse

None-the-less we persist - & the stress lessens

as we find pace is keyed to harmony - there’s a

moment of clear realisation when Kookaburra’s

calls flood in with momentary recitations saying

aha, ahahahaha, ahaha, er yeah, gidday, catch

y’ later, ok - as if knowing there’s no acrimony

meant - that indeed we are compleat

Poetry from the Creek