currawongs

  they call from the dark
  of a fig tree
  
  they call from a high branch
  of a hoop pine
  
  they call in flight
  
  rolling rhythms
  that could be part of
  a sea shanty
  
  five birds
  dominate two suburbs
  
  adding consonants I hear 
            thirty-three thirty-one
            thirty-three thirty-one
            Dolores      Dolores
  
  my mathematical self
  wants a more interesting number
  can it be        sixty-five sixty-one
  no
  the vowels are insistent
  it can only be
            thirty-three thirty-one
  though another call is
            three to the eighth
  
  I think how I love these
  random moments of delight
  
  but my sceptical self says
  projection        personification
  what do you know of a bird’s mind?
  
  I listen again
  without preconceptions
  
  pure listening
  
              (three to the eighth
              Dolores      Dolores)
  
  unmistakable  delight