Galahs.

Galahs

   As the light streaks with red and grey
   I sit on the soft chair on the deck
   and let wine heighten and dull my senses
   then the galahs come screaming in
   to settle in next door's gums they flash
   fragments of sunset falling into tree tops
   fledglings wheezing at parents, females begging
   from males, cock birds raising crests
   defending their roosts then starting up
   as if at a signal, squawking off to carry on
   the cacophony to other trees in the park

   I sip and wonder at how the mob
   understands the evening chaos
   falling into family groups
   secure until sunup starts
   the discordant urgency again.
   When the bagpipes subside into gurgles
   which sometimes boil over as
   flapping squabbles in dark branches,
   and fewer shapes fly overhead,
   mosquitos begin to bite.
   That's my signal to flap around the kitchen,
   banging saucepans, tripping over the cats,
   look for my mate coming home
   settle for the night.