too big to fall

Too big to fall


Daybreak,
from cobalt to light blue, the first sunrise
hit the west rampart
A gray, sullen-looking wall, suddenly brilliantly white
As the sun kept on, the shining wall turned brown and
finally self- ignited
Since it was the wall of a dwelling, naturally it burned
down Also, it took the fire truck an hour to reach the
fire by then, the tongues of flame had subsided.
Out of the ashes rose, no, not Phoenix, not a Firehawk
but a ruffled cockatoo with a cigarette lighter in its claws flew over another house and set it on fire
luckily, the fire truck was still at the scene and was
able to minimize the damage
The cockatoo sat on top of an oak, flicking the lighter on and off; a police officer tried to shoot the bird but mist
The cockatoo, greatly offended, flew to the forest and
may more wildfires were reported, those who know
things like this said the fire would stop when the bird ran out of lighter fuel.
It did not stop; seven more fires were reported and
the cockatoo was blamed for ornithology, which became a science not taught at universities, simply a word for
for comedians to make fun with
The humble cockatoo was hunted to near extinction,
like the Arctic fox, but not like the Tasmanian tiger that
only live in the mind of the incurable romantic
No one blamed the sun for being too big to obliterate