Common or Indian Myna
They're a favourite of suburban poets
lazily in need of some local colour,
even though they're an interloper, a pest,
and not as lovely as the noisy miner.
Cheeky little buggers in dark Zorro hoods
with the feral stealth of true survivors,
they’re hated for driving out native birds
but in India a symbol of faithful lovers.
Every day I watch them on our lawn,
peck-pecking away at invisible prey,
bugs and beetles, a worm now and then.
They hang around the back door too,
staking out the dog's bowl, hoping to score,
like Heckle and Jeckle meets Bill and Ben.
Common mynas live at breakneck speed,
always dodging magpies, cats and cars,
often found deceased on bitumen or asphalt,
sometimes hopping in and out of poets’ dreams.
- © Jason Beale 2022
Jason Beale is a writer who lives in the southeast suburbs of Melbourne. His poems have been published in Meniscus, Grieve Vol 10 and Poetry d’Amour 2022.
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