We wait,
ears straining,
every tenth month
to catch your clear trill
echoing through the trees.

Proud fisher of the king,
trawling for invertebrates
(which you whack senseless
before swallowing whole).

You present a dashing figure
in your turquoise tux
and epauletted shirt.
Though you wear the mask of Zorro,
that crazy red schnoz gives you away.

Then sometime during resurrection
silently you slip away
in the darkest hour of night
and we wake
to autumn.



Early-bird Prompt

Write a poem about your favourite bird.
I have many favourites.  Hornbills, shrikes, barbets, kingfishers, etc., etc.
In South Africa we are SO spoiled with kingfishers!  We have TEN different varieties!
This poem is about the Woodland Kingfisher.  They arrive in our area at the beginning of summer in October and disappear overnight sometime in April, migrating north.


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