Little Thornbills

LITTLE THORNBILLS

I'm happy now, I'm in a fine way.
My lot in life will not clear. Even
under cars I love my wife, my children.

I walk around the mudbrick house happy.
I did that! See, my new pioneering, my
garden landscape, the orchard. I did that too!

I'm happy reading 'The Age' mornings.
Wrap local-rag arvoes with a thawing chook
Doled with a little happy.

I even enjoy wheeling off to school the kids
Car a glass-can on oil-rubber wings
Gettin out and burnin fuel: zooom, zoom.

I'm happy. I quite enjoyed dashing
My lonely mug of instant coffee
On the big stacks of unlaid bricks.

I can even not entirely hate grovelling...
Like locating boltholes on the gooseneck
Of my happy towbar, if I'm down, (and I am).

I'm happy the car still goes (and stops).
The school letters children and come sunrise
Plastic lunch boxs must be happly filled...

But tell me why the little thornbills
Picking lerp off gumtrees out my windscreen
Make me catch my eyes?

1990 © Wayne David Knoll

I have twitched and watched birds, making birdlists since I was a boy. The little flight beings are wonderful to watch. Watching, I have yen to try. Where are the boltholes to be gone, that lead somewhere better than this? Pold the clod can undress the wings of his tongue, for who does want to be 'my man' ... 'Home among the gumtrees'? But it too often seems to be down on his knees in abjection that gets him somewhere.