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Ornithos

for Robert Wrigley

Sing of larksongs in the brambles and mud cities,

the Kivu lakeshore rookeries

along those cooled cradles of magma.

Sing the birthplace of death and drought,

of baobabs and jacaranda buds,

the stump-rumped waddle of dabchick

and duck, shag and scissorbill,

their heron wet cousins strutting rivers.

You brittle bastards—

lovebird, greenshank, tambourine dove,

tinkerbird, oxpecker, little leaflove—

you are great in your littleness,

your hover and yaw, the way you bleed

the light your bodies are made of.

We envy, we dream, we sun in your splendour,

the sky built into your bones.

O bird, bird of prey,

of prance and shimmer on the thermals.

Kingfisher, nightjar, swift and shrike,

honeyguide, harrier, curlew and crake,

coo and I will echo, telling my lips:

Go on, go on, these are your wings.