Gone now, their light was spent Before we walked the earth To claim them beautiful. No feather-colour fossils Reflect their once-owned sunlight; No field guide captured their unknowable Strange-plumage dance on younger continents. They must have felt the birth-urge And their genes catapulting towards oblivion Were all; in a spring of green earth music As images of their last And futile making-time Left softly on their forever journey Towards a gentle emptiness of distant Flowers of light. And their sun-discovered uniqueness, Wryneck subtle or sunbird-gaudy, Snatched from the smashed palette Of their awesome creation. And a million species extinct now, Not just odd-balls: Too trusting, too large or too rare, But all those which could not adapt To the changing canvass of a forgotten time. Their colours space-rainbows in eternity, Their light strange quasars someday.
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