Poetry

Avian Effects

Rod Moran

A crow, vivid black—
on the mirror of its back
the sky flashes chicory-blue.
*
The trees exhale
jewelled finches,
colouring the wind.
*
That small ember
in the tinder grass—
a roseate robin.
*
Coal feathered cockatoos
abrade the day—scraping,
screeching, serrating.
*
The lake shimmers with sky
and shoals of waterbirds,
spoonbills sluicing through clouds.
*
A pond blue as the wren
in those lavender shrubs—
water, flowers, the bird’s colour.
*
A white sea-eagle hunts
across the storm’s livid front.
Lightning claws the water.
*
The day’s inscription—
ibises by a clay moon,
a flight in copperplate script.
*
A wine-red parrot,
its call like a crystal goblet
tapped with a silver spoon.

Rod Moran