At twilight this evening, a lone peewee settled on the fence line, unexpected company above a paddock split open by summer. The moment felt like a small report from the dry season — so I let the bird speak for itself.
Peewee on the Fence Wire
Here on a weathered fence wire,
in my honorary black-and-white attire,
I am a peewee of a scarecrow
monitoring this broad and dry meadow.
The long, hot summer has created havoc
and left the parched paddock
covered in a maze of deep, dark cracks,
inscribed by the droughts, dusty, black chalk;
and the dirty chasms are as wide as my back.
Their song carries softly across the dry ground — a fitting echo for this moment.
Ivor Steven © February 2026
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 
Excellent account of the parched land in the Aussie sun, courtesy of a birds eye point of view. 🥰📝🐦⬛🌏☀️♬😍
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Yes, secretly I am a disguised as a poet, but I don’t know how to fly “yet” !!! 🌞😀📖🦅🦉
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Flying, yes, in my mind I am flying … 🥰🦉
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A lovely poem, Ivor. Did you not have a lot of rain earlier in the summer?
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It was a cool early summer but no rain, Robbie 🌏🌞
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This makes me think the birds might be growing hungry in so much dry weather.
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Yes, the birds need the rain to 🦉🥰
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oh, no, tiny scarecrow, I hope you are finding enough food
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If it were within my power, I would happily send you some of our rain. I hope the rain arrives soon. 🙂
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