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# Transfiguration by Mervyn Woodrow Obscuring towering peaks and crests, the darkening clouds roll on. A sheet of lightning flickers, flashes briefly and is gone. Clambering over the mountain's summit, churning and cascading, The mighty force of laden clouds, its dreadful power parading. Abov...

# Transfiguration by Mervyn Woodrow Obscuring towering peaks and crests, the darkening clouds roll on. A sheet of lightning flickers, flashes briefly and is gone. Clambering over the mountain's summit, churning and cascading, The mighty force of laden clouds, its dreadful power parading. Above the clouds a living mantle floats and moves and sings They look like swallows in close formation, held high on whirring wings. No. These are heidies; see the feather's brilliant blue. Some say their music is the sound the angels listen to. Perhaps they were lost in the symphony and did not hear the sound Of the angry voice that called to them, summoned them back to ground. Much later on, when the day was done, settled back on earth, These little birds heard the dreadful words, "You'll rue the day of your birth." "How dare you," Modjaji the Rain Queen cried, "how dare you disobey? My word is law. When I call, you come. You stop your foolish play. Perhaps you've begun to worship the sun, to pray to the shining light? Do you think when you flutter above my clouds and ignore me, that that's all right?" "Know pretty heidies that I am your Queen. From me comes life-giving rain. But you've done me wrong, so you've sung your last song. You'll never make music again. When you wake up tomorrow, you'll find to your sorrow, you cannot fly high in the sky. Down here on the ground you'll waddle around and hardly fly if you try. "No more will be seen your lovely blue sheen, instead you'll be nondescript brown. Your song will be gone, you'll go squawking along and people will curse you and frown. You were once pretty heidies, renowned for your song, could fly very high, very far. But I have arranged to have it all changed, from now on you're plain Hadeda." Ha-ha-hadeda-ha-ha *from '...with Love from Grampa', used with permission of the poet*