21 August 2016

On The Wing

Today taking th’ steeper hill track on a whim made 
less than a modicum of sense, initially at least, yet 
when the penny dropped as panting receded we’d 
achieved a goal sensibly without breaking stride in 
subtly breaching ambitions by disassembling ‘em - 
hard as it was, we never realised we’d intended to 
do a double circuit as tho’ a contest - but there we 
were - exulting, gliding down the hill to home 

That it was an applause-less welcoming lent this 
paradox a lichen of sense; we were greeted by a 
Brazilian chair cacophony of muted snores, & an 
accompaniment of hems ‘n haws from th’ coterie 
of Kookaburra commentators perched expectant 
on the clothes line - awaiting their minced meat 

Mate, what feat? Taking two walks with the dog 
over the hill doesn’t rate a medal, or a mention; 
but while you’re up there m’ glass needs a refill, 
and the Kookaburras are getting impatient for a 
feed, & they’ll pretend you’re a hero in catching 
their meat in the air when they’re on the wing 
© 29 May 2016, I. D.Carswell 

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