Kookbaurra

I see we have undervalued the kookaburra;
they think they are waking the world, and I think so too.
They gobble the night in their throats like purple berries,
they plunge their beaks in the tide of darkness and dew
and fish up long rays of light; no wonder now they howl
In such triumph of trumpets, leaves fall from the trees,
small birds fly backwards, snakes disappear into a hole.
All day long they will rule the bush as they please.
Perched on high branches, one eye cocked for the snake,
from treetop to treetop they watch the sun and follow it;
far in the west they take it in that great beak
and bang it against a bluegum branch and swallow it;
then nothing is left in the world but the kookaburras
like waterfalls exulting down from the gullies.