Feathers

An afterthought for National Poetry Day
by Isa O’Kane

At the dry end of summer

In the Waitakere skies

A drunken Kereru lazily flies.

It feeds on fruit overripe and fermented

Little does it know it will soon be the lamented.

It sees a window and blue the other side.

an imminent fate when the bird does collide

Its neck is broken, its feathers a mess

and for all that there is one bird less.

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