“Let’s buzz a ptarmigan!”
Well, let’s not, I crab,
Inwardly rankling at this sudden
But just a boy at heart
I am in part reluctantly
Impressed by their pristine bee
Defying aerodynamic laws high
Above Broad Cairn’s stony bannocks.
I ask and am cheerfully
Informed that, smarter than some,
If too far out of range of
The handset’s honeyed waves,
It will itself waggle a way home.
I lose sight of the whirring quadrat as
The insect hawk hobbies over
Broken stillnesses of white,
But the imperial whine persists
Pinioned somewhere on the air.
Below my speckled allies
In unhurried arctic whites,
Lost even underfoot in these highlands,
Donder quietly plump and native,
Over the lichen and the snow.