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