nests revealed
while waiting patiently
for the hairy woodpecker mother
to bring the very large flying bug
to her babies
two more nests reveal themselves:
a flicker flies straight to an aspen
where a branch becomes a hole
and while watching him
a mountain chickadee is
swallowed by trunk
when we’re silent and still
not rushing
the world brings us into
her inner circle
Owen made this presentation for his Spanish class at school. He had a list of questions he was supposed to answer about a trip he had taken. He thought it would be too hard to answer about our entire trip, so here he discusses the New Zealand portion.
Here are 10 places our kids absolutely loved from the last six months of our travels abroad!
satellite stream while awaiting the Okarito kiwi
at least 30 glowing pearls on a string
arc across the sky
below Orion’s belt
evenly spaced
long enough for us to
discuss the phenomenon
while it unfolds
satellites, the simple answer
but to what end?
the old Englishman and I both say
we’ve never seen anything like it before
what could it mean
but war?
at the library next day
I consult the 1s and 0s
and quickly find an answer
Starlink-1, a chain of 60 satellites
Elon Musk’s put in the sky
sailing over New Zealand each night,
an effort at connection not destruction
another wonder
that still doesn’t approach
my delight at seeing
B-Zed the kiwi
Owen took this photo.
Weka with a Walking Stick
little tokoeka comes hobbling along the strand
planting his walking stick
in every likely bit of wrack
big clown feet marking up the beach
with dinosaur tread
tiny round bum barely balancing him out
and we’re all transfixed
our prayers answered
but this biggish bird just keeps going about
his jolly way
slowly becoming mammal
not realizing a whole people
have named themselves after him
The People Parade, as told by L’il Foot, the Little Penguin
they’re there all day if you look hard enough
one or two scattered along the boardwalk
hidden in the scrub
but it’s only when the light goes rose
that they gather by the hundreds
wide pockets of bodies
lining the shore
we wait for them to settle down
my mates and me
then when they’re calm and quiet
we move in close
to see them face-to-face
they make so many calls
it’s hard to know what they mean
squealing and cooing
trotting up the path
I like to stand still sometimes
let them flow around me like a river
of legs and eyes and voices
and wonder what their homes look like inside
where exactly are they hurrying off to?
it’s different every night
this evening there were four
who matched each step with mine
as if I were escorting them home
out under the stars together
heading back after a long day’s fishing
we took it easy together
ambling up the hill
the smallest one didn’t even wear trainers
he left his pink feet out in the cold
and his flip flops slapped against
the boards each step
I named him Li’l Toes
and blinked him a quiet goodnight peck
and wished him sweet dreams
wherever he lays his head
before I lost him in the crowd
resolved: not taking the blame
like Siddhartha
he knows how to wait
silent and still
quiet and calm
less certain is how
he will take in
the guide’s excuse:
you moved too much
as we unmeld ourselves
from the fronds and branches
I hear his breath catch
fighting back tears
on the long silent walk home
I wonder what he will say
when he can speak freely
hoping he won’t accept the proffered blame
at home the tears come
and relief on both accounts
he knows who he is
and won’t be told otherwise
how is it at 12
he already walks away from suspect guilt
with clear eyes and a steady conscience
when I still can’t shake my Catholic days?
Owen took these photos.
ribbon-tailed astrapia
bobbing through the bush
he sews a white path
through green ground
binding memory and dream
disasters that didn’t happen
so close to the goal
he dreams it all goes wrong
every way at once
yes, you might drop
your book in the drink
keel over, tumble straight off the dock
forget your name and what you’re here for –
things do happen
plans do change
but as Bryson likes to say
most days nothing erupts
you don’t drift out into space
lightning doesn’t crisp your brow
the pit in your stomach
won’t better your odds
no matter how much of your day
it consumes
welcome to the unknowable,
& the relief of trusting
you’ll see your way through
each lovely disaster that unfolds
in the bird hide
in the bird hide
everything is simple
all we’re invited to do
is be:
come look notice appreciate praise
avocado green water laps
against deep brown stilts
a fresh breeze filters in
ruffles the novel pages
and scatters the Coke cans
nyala, impala sidle down to sip
and our eyelids droop
while nothing much transpires
until all in a moment
two wooly-necked storks
descend with a clatter
throw rainbows our way
then remind us
what love looks like –
gently plucking parasites
from the beloved’s trusting neck
