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
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem