Sometimes its so odd….

…how a poem comes. Yesterday, or the day before, I woke early as I usually do, before light thinking about poems and these words floated full into my head:

Imagine!

The pomegranates are so red

Even the kookaburras

Are laughing.

I wasn’t even sure I knew what a kookaburra was. Maybe a bird. Maybe a flower. Maybe a small rodent. I had to look it up. Amazingly I find that this bird is native to Australia and, not only that, but it has a raucous call that sounds like maniacal laughter! I’ve never been to Australia. So where in my hidden memory had I known that? Did I know that? Did this snippet of a poem emerge from down-under while I was down-under asleep and open to the mysterious travelings of poems? Was there a poet awake at his desk in another hemisphere looking out at his garden listening to the morning chatter of the birds, and his thought form slipped thru time and space into my half dreaming mind?

So, poet out there, if these are your words, I give credit where credit it due. With hope of seeing one of these laughing birds one day and the pomegranates hung from a tree.

For those of you like me who don’t know, wikipedia is happy to share a photo: Dacelo_novaeguineae_waterworkstaken by JJ Harrison

And always, when I’m visited by strange angels, I have to ask: what is your medicine? I find this wonderful answer on the web:

KOOKABURRA 

The Kookaburra is a wake up call to your fires of passion.  In Aboriginal Dreamtime Myth a good spirit who lived in the sky saw how bright and beautiful the earth looked when it was lit up by the blaze of his fire. He considered that it would be a good thing to make a fire every day, and so from that time he did so. All night long he and his attendant spirits, collected wood for the heap, and when the pile was big enough they sent out the morning star to warn those on Earth that the fire would soon be lit. The spirits, however, discovered that this warning was not sufficient, as for those who slept through it missed the spectacle.  Then spirits decided that someone should make some noise at dawn to herald the coming of the sun and waken the sleepers. The Goo-goor-gaga, the laughing jackass, was commissioned by the spirits to proclaim the coming of the sun to waken the sleepers.  The Kookaburra’s message is to apply inspirational fuel, to keep the flames of passion high.

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About wrensong

I am a poet who collects stones. I am a wanderer of creek beds and forests, canyons and high desert who, coming home, sometimes finds words to tell the story. I am a companion with others in the search for Deep, Wild Soul. I shape containers in time and space for others to come together to write, to tell their stories, to hold each other in the telling. I am a grandmother and the companion of a cat named Alaya. I often travel out into open country with a man who calls himself Dunewalker who has hung his hammock in my heart.
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2 Responses to Sometimes its so odd….

  1. azcanyonwren says:

    Lovely poem for the kookaburra and description. Whenever I hear that name, I think of the song I learned when I was in girl scouts so loooonnngg ago: “Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree. Merry merry king of the bush is he. Laugh kookaburra laugh. Kookaburra gay your life must be.” I will have an earworm now, but a lovely one to have.

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