Now the autumn maize is growing,
Now the corn-cob fills,
Where the Little River flowing
Winds among the hills.
Over mountain peaks outlying
Clear against the blue
Comes a scout in silence flying,
One white cockatoo.
Back he goes to where the meeting
Waits among the trees.
Says, "The corn is fit for eating;
Hurry, if you please."
Skirmishers, their line extending,
Shout the joyful news;
Down they drop like snow descending,
Clouds of cockatoos.
We had a lovely trip to Sydney some time ago to attend Don Quixote by The Australian Ballet and had a side trip to Cockatoo Island. What an unexpected find! Gorgeous views and plenty of walks through ghostly buildings and over green spaces.