Scuttle

Scuttle

There’s enough dancing scuttle to cancel all dangerous threads

You sit, pink-tongued above Sams Creek
Where your ancestors sat pink-tongued
Long before human threads
First brown, then white, arrive in Aotearoa
Where volcanoes spit flame
Earthquake mountains shudder
And metric tonne floodwaters
Crack boulder marbles
Down the plunge of Sams Creek

Yet, right now, as birdsong awakens
A single grey thread
Drop, drops out of dawn’s soft opening
’til sharp spinning rotor blades roar
In tiny ears, ruffle green feathers
As we lock on hard, push back against
Toxic thread attack on kea space
While Dreadlock Prophet strums guitar
Croons kea waiata
And yes, we are the underground
Who push back tough
Where poetry runs riot, breaks boundaries
To the cries of delighted parrots
Who hip-hop-shuffle
As united, we scuttle, scuttle, scuttle
Reclaim parrot paradise
Where keas play hide and seek
Hide and seek, hide and seek
Cock heads, gaze, curious
As we strive, drive Ozzy drillers away
From where they play Ozzy dice, with kea life
Who skuttle, prance and dance
While we stick tight, drive back, tricky, sticky
Malignant Ozzy threads
From the paradise of Sams Creek x3

(We’re the watchmen on your tracks,
We’re woman tough and hidden stuff
We drive the miners back)

There’s enough dancing scuttle to cancel all dangerous threads: from the Sayings of Humanity

Threads: as in spider webs
Scuttle: scurry, dart, dash, scamper about