Dance of the Flame Bower Bird
A twig here, a twig there
On the forest floor
Snap off the edge to keep it to size
Lay it out here, now straighten it there
Make it curve, create a hollow
The perfect avenue
For two to make one
How about a leaf, nice and green
Some berries, bright and blue
Day after day, hour after hour
He sets up his bower
Now he waits
She appears on a branch above
Inspects his space, cocks her head
He twitters and chirrups
She responds with a whistle
Encouraged,
He starts with Stage One: The Eyes
His irises shrink to pinpricks
In the yellow sea of his eyes
Before filling out into black saucers
Impressed, she stays
He dilates his pupils even more.
She flies off,
Darn
Another berry, another leaf,
Some dried flowers by the side
She’s back now, hovering just outside
He moves it up a notch for Stage two: The Dance
Two steps to the left
Now two to the right
Holding the blue berry in his beak,
He fans his plumage
In fires of red and gold
Edged in black
Fold in and fold out
Take a bow
She steps into his bower
He now steps in too
Head butts her for Stage Three
but this is love bowerbird style
and she settles in
A flutter of wings
Brilliant red on olive yellow
Joy abounds
In 15 second he secures
The future of his species
His love language:
Definitely Dance
#jemstones # spwm23 #sowm23day28 # opentocrit
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