Cuckoo
I fall to Wales
between barred clouds and slate sea,
trailing a long day like a banner.
Coucou, I say, I am from Kinshasa.
Cwcw, they say.
Soft rain rills desert dust from my wings.
I am not a migrant;
this is my second home.
I fathom the woods for dunnocks.
Zulus call me unokukhukhuza.
My eye is a universe.
I quarter the meadows for pipits.
My eggs hatch their terror like slow bombs.
More! they megaphone.
More! is not enough –
they might swallow their parents whole.
They follow white thread stitching black roads to the coast.
Their hearts’ compasses beat them south:
Africa Africa Africa.
The sun scags at their backs like a hawk.
Forests applaud their arrival.
Warm rain brooks Wales from their feathers.
Cwcw, they say.
Coucou, I say.
Feature Image: A chick of the common cuckoo in the nest of a tree pipit