Apteryx

I met an Apteryx of late
I woke to find him at my bedside-
On two webbed sticks like barbers’ poles
And sporting wings, two flightless fans.

Well you must know it shocked me deeply.
A living bird of heaven’s stock!
And shocked me almost out of bed
and widened quite both my eyes.

At once he showed me such a gesture: {a dance it is, in human terms}
Perhaps to sway my eyes to tarry
Which seemed quite unnecessary, yet pleased me still.

I’ve never met a bird so odd.
With such a form like lumps and pears
and curiosity snatched hold tight
and tempted me to tap its thought.

I went about my query slow-like.
Stopping now and then in pause
in hope to catch a speck of knowledge…
what made this earthbound sparrow tick?

No words escaped his pointed lips
nor did he jump to try and show
but just nodded, smugly, haughty in movement
as to tell me he had truths not to tell.

So angered me, the unbroken silence.
I bid him go and leave me be.
Obligingly he left my bedside table
and wandered, waddled out the door.

...

How I always loved the bird’s song
And softly feathered robins’ coo,
for when I questioned blue jays, sparrows,
I fathomed only the melodic face.

But Apteryx, oh tongue-less birdie,
a raven couldn’t spook me more.
Since you I yearn for avian insights,
a song can never slake…

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