Maybe you recall an earlier post - Maggie comes to Town.

Some stayed !!

Magpie Melody.

A melody of magpies just greeted me,

whilst taking a rest, also a beaut cup of tea.

It may have been thank you for  the freshened bird bath.

No sound from a kooka, so it wasn’t just a laugh.

They chortled and carolled , perched on fence and gum tree,

I’m sure it was composed - by them - just  for me.

Some young, a few old; and more is the pity

the young have been reared here; in my smoky city.

Their joyous musicallity is heard every morn

from down by the river just after new dawn.

As the sun rises further, when they know I’m about

they give me their marvellous melody shout.

Will they one day, return to the old town of Bourke

where fossicking for food is much harder work,

competing with kestrels and hawks with their might

or  watching for eagles , perhaps even a kite.

Well, that will be my loss.

No nearby refrain.

It will be swallowed by the thunder

of  a hurtling cattle train.

©. Rimeriter. 9/2012.

Maggie comes to Town.

Whilst the weather in the west of Aus. was dry and dusty, we have had some country dwellers come to town.
The following post should 'paint the picture' -

Maggie comes to Town.

He had flown across the mountain, because the water’s runnin’ low, parched lands were increasing day by day.

He travelled to the city where the rivers were in flow, found them pleasant and decided he might stay.

It was the Georges, where he landed to have a look around,

found a lake with tall timber at its edge.

High branches with green foliage, somewhat similar to home,

this place might be nice to have a rest.

Soaring high on pleasant updrafts, watching all within his view,

he could see feathered others in their nest.

No sign of predators or fire, left behind the Western Ranges, where drought is causing animals to die.

Soft morning sun from dawn to dusk, green and grassy is the land,

cotton clouds framed by a pale and blue hued sky.

He found a backyard garden, just at the river edge, with a birdbath and low foliage on the scene.

Tasty tank water, right for drinking and for bathing, then a space to spread his wings to stretch and preen.

But little sign of  roadkill, or other food of choice, that was until a human came out through her door.

She spread red meat upon the grass, some soft, some very stringy, more like dead ‘roo or Wallaby’s hardened paw,

which needed both his strong beak, to rip and tear to shreds, as he once did when in his western range.

He then began to sense, this is not so bad at all, even though it began as, very, very strange.

When once he had ‘settled in’, with competition thin, he began his strange but friendly magpie ‘talk’.

So then each and every day, when his human would appear,

he’d fly to her feet to say good morning with a

gutteral magpie  -  “ grawk  ‘.

©. Rimeriter 28/4/12.