currawong cries

Currawong

koo-warr-koo-warr-koo-warr-ka
koo-warr-koo-warr-koo-warr-ka

my mother told me
they cawed and called
and gathered
in their groups
before the rain

koo-warr-koo-warr-koo-warr-ka
koo-warr-koo-warr-koo-warr-ka

she said
they were an infallible
indicator

but I believe

koo-waa-aa-arrrrhh

I believe

waa-aa-aa-aa- arrrrhh

she was wrong

waa-aa-arrrrhh

the big bird
is at the top of the tree
alone

he’s looking out
be he isn’t watching
for the weather

koo-warr-koo-warr-koo-warr-ka

my currawong stares
away to the east
if he sees storms coming
he is not telling me

koo-waa-aa-arrrrhh

I think he’s just bored
maybe
in-between jobs

or waiting till the rest
of the criers arrive
for a corroboree

koo-warr-koo-warr-koo-warr-ka
koo-warr-koo-warr-koo-warr-ka

koo-waa-aa-arrrrhh

koo-warr-koo-warr-koo-warr-ka
koo-warr-koo-warr-koo-warr-ka

waa-aa-aa-aa- arrrrhh

the morning rings
the mourning cries

the currawongs
are carrion the dead

waa-aa

the currawongs
are singing

waa-aa-aa-aa- arrrrhh

songs of the dead


© Frank Prem, 2017

July 2017 Poem #02: still (day) life

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3 thoughts on “currawong cries

  1. Pingback: Delta New View | What's (in) the picture?

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