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
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