BROWN FALCON


BROWN FALCON

We didn’t win a portion of the 33million dollars in ‘lotto –

That weekly re-distribution of wealth that would have built

Us our own Nursing home:

Do not apply – grumpy workers, bullies, perfectionists

Or Christians who can’t tolerate surfy sufis, old hippies who

Prefer to walk bare feet singing about

George Harrison’s Sweet Lord.

‘Happy Hour’ is more than Friday tea-times, as each hour

They’ve got left, reflects on a life well spent,

New to old age, some with a gentle smoke

Out in the herb garden, taking in the greenery

Like we have right now,

When, out of the blue, a masterful bird of prey

Can drop in, flap its wings brown feathered

Into our lunch-time, turn like a corkscrew to land

On a branch and eat its reptilian find.

My sandwich crust fallen from lips amazed

Making sure this living scenery is super-glued

To the memory, to pass many musing minutes

Or meditation at a dentist visit.

I say to my Green Man: You did this! You created a forest

Of Blue Quandong, Silky Oak and Queensland Maple

So a Brown Falcon can find a protective place to

Enjoy a feed to keep its wild strength up

Without the prying pirate crows.

Swiftly it rises above so that all I can see is

Its shadow spanned across the pools flat screen

Gliding around three or four times and

It is gone…

Left to sit and wonder about the richness

We experience without living life only to win,

Listening to Mick singing wiser than his years,

From our youth:

You can’t always get what you want…

But you just might find, you get what you need…oh yeah, honey.

 

(c)copyright Julie McNeill Dec. 2006

all rights reserved

 

 

 

 

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