The first is like an imaginary vision;
a tiny apparition, in three quick flashes.
The landing, one sip, then disappearing,
sweet fairy wren.
Then, there is the brazen, full, plop of the Currawong;
raucous, self proclaiming
with flapping ablutions
and on exit, stealing one
of the floating silk lilies.
Copyright © Suzanne Delaney