The Morrow-bird

Suppose we begin with a glacier
bearing a massive stone
till the world warms, leaving the boulder
abandoned, alone

through aeons of desolation,
before a wind brings crumbs of earth,
tundra forms, with reindeer,
then one day, a bird

from an unkent airt (the future)
circles appraisingly
and drops a gift, a hazel nut
which sends forth the tree

that inaugurates a forest
pine green and berry bright -
the wood holds sway a thousand years
then feels the first axe bite.

The rest, we cry ‘history’-
kye and castle, empire, mine and mill,
till we win the right to be governed
according to our will.

Which brings us to this chamber
where, at our provisional behest,
today you take your places.
Well, here is a first request.

Thon bird’s back, wheeling over
bedraggled and dismayed,
she soared to sight the horizon,
but returned afraid. 
		
She soared to sight the horizon,
 (her wings flashed gold)
but turned back, preparing herself
to tell what must be told,

and perched on a certain boulder 
(her life-long friend)
she’s ready, so please listen
as she caw’s you to attend.

 “All things pass and change, 
that’s aye been the way;
but the stark vision I saw up there
must be allayed.

For that, no lone child, 
woman or man will be enough,
you’ll want your multifariousness
when it all gets tough.

Stones, it won’t be sufficient
just to sit on your dowps and say ‘nay’.
Trees, don’t be waving your arms about
in some new breeze every day. 

It’s maddening your own age-old
injustices remain, 			
but now your human influence
invades the wild domains -		

on you depend the puddock’s leap
the hare’s breath, the drone of summer bees,
the whale’s dive in the ocean
- and you need them.”  

				                            So please
Let the morrow-bird’s handsel be wisdom,
leavened with music and song.
We seek good governance, Parliament.
Act bold. Be kind. Stay strong.