the Strausian bum bu-baaaam of sunrise
gangs(ta) kookaburras are tee-tee-tee hawing
a currawong calls, scolding us late risers
hyper-rosellas burn for that next nectar fix
and here, the butcherbird’s fluting rings
correct in all the caw

while I mumble dumb odes to your sleepy eyes.

Image: Kawanabe Kyōsai (Japanese, 1831–1889) Crow and Willow Tree,  ink and colour on silk, Metropolitan Museum New York. A quadrille for Dverse where De is hosting and asks us to ‘bum’ around for 44 words. Join the fun. 

(Yes, the new block editor is a stinker – this took hours).

And here’s a morning chorus from the Dandenong Ranges in Victoria.

18 thoughts on “outside…

  1. This is so beautiful and mystifying, Peter. So full of beautiful and creative descriptions, they intrigue me greatly with what imageries come to mind. You really rocked the prompt here, and I especially adored the final line:

    “while I mumble dumb odes to your sleepy eyes.” It’s just so serene and nice. I love that facet in this poem. It’s a quiet, warm ending to this amazing piece.


  2. Thank you so much for the morning birdsong, Peter, and for the memory of singing Kookaburra sit’s in the old gum tree at school; back then I had no idea what a kookaburra sounded like. You made me laugh with ‘gangs(ta) kookaburras’. I must check out the ‘butcherbird’s fluting rings’. I love the final line.


  3. The ending is such a sharp but natural turn, sort of like turning ones head away from the view where the dawn chorus comes. Nicely done.

    ps: Are you wearing your snowsuit, strapped on your skis?


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