Poetry

Corellas

Nana Ollerenshaw

Thousands come in white,

cocky bright they

scandalize the sky,

swell sound in high, excited

gossip. Rumour runs before them

in migration; calamitous,

hysterical their population.

They polkadot the green

then spill en masse

in crests of surf,

icons of the paddock,

old time robbers of the crop,

before the white wave

rears and stops,

weighs down a tree with light.