Wings Window open- I stop-listen. I hear who flies by: Kereru flaps slower than tui, as you land sounds of air pushed whistles through feathers. Tui, the forest fighter jet knows each tree in its slalom path. Ziishoom - the sounds of you flying between trees at dazzling speed, Piwakawaka’s wings flit and swoop. Forest dancer, tail fanned, choreogaphed moves of flight. Wild geese call at twighlight flying low, synchronised wings calling each other wedge bound. Ruru, whose silent wings unfold and you glide from tree to tree yet as air moves, your presence felt. © Craig A Roberts, 2022