There’s more to life, even in Sydney, than house prices.
Some honey bees in the Flugtag competitors queue.
Sonnet 3: Flugtag
Flightday: young people spread their wings
where Ms Macquarie sat of yore.
Buzz Lightyear, bees and Monkey kings,
James Cook (with convicts) try to soar
in would-be gliders they’ve designed –
fantasies to blow your mind –
Hills Hoist, muffin, wedding cake,
but most plunge straight down to the lake.*
We joined the crowd outside the fence,
groupies for The Tent That Flew
(its crew: three scouts, one kangaroo,
one son of mine). And though the gents
who judged them scored them pretty low
they were the best in all the show.
The Tent (in glider configuration) in the queue. At the mike the pilot explained that they had come the night before to earn their Sleeping with Mrs M badges, and decided to compete in Flugtag almost by accident. Theirs was the wittiest talk to the mike we heard and they flew the third furthest.
* Well, it would have been the lake if we’d been at the Minneapolis Flugtag, say. Here it was actually the Harbour. But what rhymes with ‘harbour’?
Me fail? I fly! 