David Chadwick

Such a commotion in the flax

Swinging and swaying on the stalks

Chattering away as you feed

White bibs tucked into coats of iridescent black

There’s no need to tell me you’re back

 

For many years you were never seen here

Until you spread out from your bush sanctuary

Now you’re a common sight

Flapping noisily through the trees

Whistling and croaking in the kōwhai

Announcing to the world

That you are reclaiming your birthright