First I heard your wakeup call:
Peep peep! Peep-it-up! Peep peep!
Then you flew through the open door in Richmond colours,
cheerful as a scarf in a cool breeze

Straight to the bedroom window: prison mesh
No way! No way out! No way!
My gentle greeting met sideways:

beady black eye under yellow brow

You glared at me, at home with broken ribs,

as I tried to gather you up with open palms and soothing words,
coaxing you to the open door…
You took off at the speed of flight instead

Connected with the kitchen window, fell to the draining board

A clatter too loud for your delicate air; like a knock-out punch!

Legs like embroidery thread, wings pleated by fairies,
drained of life onto stainless steel grooves

Striated pardalote, still as a wet sponge
Peep peep! Peep-it-up! Peep peep!
One feather flutter. No…! A death shiver?

Peep peep! Peep-it-up! Peep peep!

I picked you up with a grip as light as silk
lay you down on a cushion in the shade outside
wished out loud for you to live, and waited…
You, tilted, listless, one thread-leg outstretched

Your beady eye – is it following me
as I curl up like a kitten in the sun in the chair?
We mirror each other with our broken wings
Peep peep! Peep it up! Peep peep!

Sea eagle soaring on the warming sun, then…
pleated flutter, body hop, up to the rail, peek ‘round, swivel-necked
another hop, seconds split, wings are raised

you stretch your throat into the breeze and fly

. . .

Listen to Hilary Burden read Pardalote.

Hilary Burden is a British/Australian author, journalist and photographer. She lives and writes from a shack on an acre in the low hills of Swansea. Her memoir, A Story of Seven Summers - Life in The Nuns’ House, was published in 2012 by Allen & Unwin. More of her photography can be seen on Instagram, @hilaryburden.