Classic Poem

Regent Honeyeater
Xanthomyza phrygia

A power as diluted as the monarch’s they were named for;
Their colonial reach across the border, tempered by more
Indigenous agitators, the great unwashed mass of noisy miners
That carp at class barriers as though paparazzi DNA cavorted
In their bloodstreams. Their black & lemon royally streaked
Robes, no match for the plain grey dullness of the common
Folk. The higher echelons of society; eucalypt canopy offers
No refuge for the persecuted; the bland workers unite &
Expel the divinely instigated elite. There is something
To be missed though; a pomp & ceremony of the ages,
The slender, curved beak like a tiny scimitar slicing into
An ironbark flower’s heart. A headdress of pollen sticking
To the Regent’s cheek like a kiss from a defeated people,
The subtle dignity of slaves that nothing high-born can resist.