What’s this thing I sit upon
As I wait for my sweetheart Ron?
Surely, I tell you, not a tree-
For leaf nor twig nor bloom I see.
Tall and rigid a mast underneath,
With wires black taut on either side.
Dozens I see in a row such poles,
Linked to the next by wires tied.
Tears flood my eyes as I recall
That chilly tragic night last fall,
When poor old Stevie sat on one-
Little did he know the wire breathed fire.
So he sat there watching the moon
And as he flapped his wings to keep warm
Alas! He touched those perilous wires…
A flash there was and there he was
Charred and dead- was poor old Stevie.
The very same peril over me hangs- I know-
But I’ve got to sit someplace Ron’ll see.
And all I find that’s high enough
Are these poles, while I wait for her.
No leaves to cover me from the hot Sun,
No yummy worms in woody wood,
Not a swing on a branch in the wind,
Just a pole of hard grey stone, and
Wires of fire taut on either side.
Ah! There in the distance I see my love
Flying to me- she’s graceful as ever.
Face full of fear is hers, but why?
On seeing me atop this pole.
“Careful, darling- don’t you know?
These are wires that breathe fireballs.
On a tree you could have sat,
And I’d find you just as well.”
“Yes, I am careful, dear Ron.
I know the peril that over me hangs.
But look around, my dearest Ron-
Tree or hedge or bush you find?”
“Gone are the trees indeed, but where?”
“Cut, of course, by man- to log.”
“Then let’s go find where there are
Trees in plenty that shelter us.”
And we flew away and away
With the golden Sun on our wings.
I wrote this poem back when I was in the Twelfth standard, inspired by the sight of a bird sitting on an electric pole. I recently found an abandoned written copy of it when I was searching for something and thought I’d post it here. The choice of names seems strange and inexplicable, but anyway I don’t think it matters!
Note: The phrase “golden Sun on our wings” is borrowed from the song Raindrops and Roses (“wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings”) in the movie The Sound of Music. I was simply captivated by the beauty of that phrase, and felt that it was a fitting end to the poem.