As Statesman comes

to berth

at Lake Guyatt Wetland reserve,

eases up to silvered timber and lichen-laced rails,

geese take their cue,

hoity toity trot out, primping, impudent

in flap-foot-stride, they sagged-bottom-sally

demanding instant tribute - processed food being

their preference.

When nothing eventuates as I've forgotten lunch,

again, they agitate disgusted,

goggle-beaked protest, quivery bottom lipping -

the bloody cheek of her!

The flipping cheek!

Then, they're off -

pillow-billowing chests a-spinnaker -

full sail, aweigh,

light sprinkling of showers passing mimics

hiss-spattering on canvas,

the sounds of droplets pattering,

obedient toes whistled up on deck - the geese fleet, too,

displays fine mimicry,

they yodel dejected shantying -

I can no longer stay, /For my heart is now so shattered

I must live on China tay.

Can almost smell sweet-salt, feel peppering spray,

taste sharp, tart tang,

hear slap of fish-tailing sails -

have I been drawn to Dawn Treader, wardrobed,

Aslaned away?

No?

Big sigh, then overlay

Edmund-dreams on unglamoured, glum, ho-hum-drum day.