“True Colours”

The rosellas shadowed me

in lofty confident flight.

‘Bright feather’

finds ‘bright feather’,

come to reassure me

as if perched in my heart.

And so my spirit soared with them,

sitting side by side

atop a perfectly placed bough,

amidst generous blossom;


in their own soft chirrup,


in their unconscious splendour.

For all their colour

they are hidden on their modest throne,

but I hear them calling.

For all their perfection,

each was struck through

in black blunt outline,

just as meaning lives in life’s contrasts.

And I must think of you

gliding in your imposing breadth

so close to the ground,

head tilted in wary observation,

never a feather ruffled,

merely adjusted

to catch the assisting draft.

You swooped

and plucked me in silent flight.

I was easy to find,

easy to carry;

unprepared to fall.

I yearn for the majesty

untried in your wing.

I grieve for the downy softness

I know hides in your breast….

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