He is king, tip to toe <br /> <br />of the alpine spine, <br /> <br />where swollen snowberries <br /> <br />crochet, the snow line. <br /> <br />While ice from the mountains <br /> <br />melt into the sea <br /> <br />He swoops and glides higher <br /> <br />and higher, he's free <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Not unlike a human, <br /> <br />his nature is caring, <br /> <br />Devotion to family, <br /> <br />Passion, and daring. <br /> <br />But no man withstands <br /> <br />extremes like the Kea, <br /> <br />Existence hard earned, <br /> <br />with an absence of fear. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />kee-aa, kee-aa, hear <br /> <br />his high pitched cries <br /> <br />Inquisitive clown, <br /> <br />of our southern skies. <br /> <br />The orange-red hue <br /> <br />beneath outstretched wings. <br /> <br />An illusion of flames, <br /> <br />or the costume of kings. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />roan ©copyright June 2012<br /><br />Ann Beard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/inquisitive-clown-n-z-kea/
