Hoopoe

A hoopoe dreams of the spider

and beetle, the wings of a butterfly

over magnetic maps of the landmarks

of smells and sounds. And if you asked me

how to navigate, I would tell you,

in flight, to follow the brightest star.

This is why a hoopoe worships the sun,

like Sheba, prostrate in submission 

to its fury - yet then, when he speaks

to kings, he reports idolatry 

and the hair on a queen's legs.

This is the wisdom of a hoopoe - 

to mould the clay of its words 

to circumstance in hoop-hoo

beneath a dishonest crown of truth.

There is safety in conformity;

to please according to the needs

of your audience, and a necessity 

if your blood is ink and your entrails,

a talisman. Such memories 

are the inheritance hissed and spat

by chicks from roosts, who will learn

to use their beaks as weapons for duels.

If I was a hoopoe,

I would also wear the comb 

of an offended woman, conceal 

myself in the mystery of a dust bath and

nest in the peace of a weeping palm.

Image is from here: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hoopoe_bird_watercolour.jpg

Also on Twitter: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Group_of_Palm_Trees,_Esbekieh_Garden,_Cairo._(NBY_420406).jpg

Here is also a video  of a hoopoe sunbathing if you're interested - https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=d1AklDsPc70