Life of a Naturalist
it’s his birthday
and the sloths are up early for once
the flamingos line up in pink, long-legged salute
the birds of paradise parade in their finest
the elephants blow their trumpets
the blue whales gush with joy
the gorillas act out stories of his visits
the lions lay off the wildebeest for one day
and stand together on the Serengeti plain
the lyre birds sing his voice in tribute
the seals cannot stop clapping
and the ostriches urge us
to listen to him
and not bury our heads in the sand
Discover more from Brian Bilston
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Well said … and my only thought at the end of you poem was, “If only”.
I can’t think of anyone who hasn’t seen one of his programs or read something he has written about our shared planet. Thank you for honouring him with your poem.
Song without rhyme
And it is here, in the pixilated gloom
Of the BBC archive, that we get our first
Glimpse at one of the natural world’s treasures;
The Sir David Attenborough, a bird so rare
That some claim only to have heard its husky call.
It’s said this bird can live one hundred years or more
Its warning cries ignored by those whose eyes and ears
Are fixed upon a gaudier cousin, the Oily Plutocrat
Whose stench attracts the dwindling prey on which it gorges
Like there’s no tomorrow, which in this bird’s case is true.
The Sir David Attenborough meanwhile starts each day
With a song both mournful and upbeat that all who hear
Are left in wonder at its range and fervour
Orang utang hang silent in their last standing tree
Hyena cease to tell each other jokes and blow their noses
Basking sharks, their mouths agape in watery wonder,
Raise their heads to listen to this one pure outfall
And bullfrogs turn their boomboxes down low
Yes, now the world listens, as this shy and gentle bird
Sings of a world that will be lost before we know.
I M Spardagus
on Sir David Attenborough Day