Above the trees’ shadowy view,
the midday sky is royal blue,
and streaky cirrus clouds from Uluru
look like a court jester’s hairdo.

I see the wise birds flying north to Kakadu,
thanks to the stratosphere’s wispy white avenue.

Perhaps the tired birds will stop over at Kathmandu,
read the ancient scriptures all the way through,
while sipping on a friendly Sherpa’s coffee brew.

Hopefully, they’ll discover the missing clue
to help solve the world’s ongoing ballyhoo.
If not, they might as well join the queue,
beneath the mystical archway into Xanadu.

Editor: Erynn Crittenden