Inquisitive Clown. (N.Z Kea) Poem by Ann Beard

He is king, tip to toe

of the alpine spine,

where swollen snowberries

crochet, the snow line.

While ice from the mountains

melt into the sea

He swoops and glides higher

and higher, he's free



Not unlike a human,

his nature is caring,

Devotion to family,

Passion, and daring.

But no man withstands

extremes like the Kea,

Existence hard earned,

with an absence of fear.



kee-aa, kee-aa, hear

his high pitched cries

Inquisitive clown,

of our southern skies.

The orange-red hue

beneath outstretched wings.

An illusion of flames,

or the costume of kings.



roan ©copyright June 2012