Black

I see black cockatoos flying

In the meadows of the Farm,

And I wonder, what brings them here,

In this dismal city’s charm

 

They are spirits of the wild,

Unlike their brothers white,

Then why come to these thoroughfares

Awash with neon light

 

Have you’ll too, like many of us

Lost your way somewhere

(I hope at least you’ll return

I make a silent prayer)

 

I stare at one, that has come this close

We speak, without a word,

I am bequeathed with golden wisdom

That comes from a silent bird

 

The way is not for us to lose

For aren’t we here to roam?

The roving soul, let him be proud

That he has no anchored home

 

We pick up wisdom as we walk

The only way to learn,

And on the way, to pick some cuts

And bleed, and bruise, and burn

 

But on that journey, there will come

Forests of endless green,

In between, these cities too

Some known and some unseen

 

It is the song of every sail,

To go farther away

Not with hope to find more land

But to know a bluer way

 

So don’t despair, to lose your way

But that you don’t sit still,

There be refuge from the world

Even atop a forlorn hill

 

Cities come between the woods

Jungles between your towns,

We ford the streams where flows the least

We rovers wear no crowns

 

The black feathers flit away

The flock seeks newer tales,

The boat repairs in a quiet dock

After the strongest gales…

 

05^th July, 2025

 

Inspired by a rare sighting of Black Cockatoos at the nearby Farm - an oasis-meadow in the middle of a rambunctious city. While corellas, sulphur crested cockatoos and galahs are common denizens of the city now, their melanistic cousins are yet to be tamed – they continue to thrive in the neighbouring National Parks with very rare sightings in the city