​I open the door
My entrance
And there you are
In all your incandescent glory.
 
You are so large
Your beak so sculptural
Those culpable eyes
Fix me
And draw focus
That I may play
The Kingfishers quarry
 
Acrobatically
I lob some bread into your mouth
Both of us are surprised
We applaud.
 
Then various players
Whirl around our scene
Magpies, with too many babies
Jostle for your fallen bread.
The Currawongs circle, but know the pecking order.
The unenchanted Wood Swallow nips into the branches
Well below your weightiness.
 
And then a flash of colour
As the Parrot
Natters its comic interest
In this pocketsize mis en scene.
 
True theatre of the plain air
Retelling the dinosaurs sweet revenge
Their authorship led on high by the choralling sounds
So that I remain transfixed
Player and audience
Rooted by their spectral power:
La commedia stupenda.
 
 



Gar Jones – July 2015

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