Each certain kind of weather or of light has its own creatures
Somewhere else they wait as though they but inhabited heat or cold
Twilight or dawn, and knew no other state
Then at their time they come, timid or bold

So when the long drought-winds, sandpaper-harsh, were still
And the air changed, and the clouds came
And other birds were quiet in prayer or fear
These knew their hour
Before the first far flash lit up, or the first thunder spoke its name
In heavy flight they came, till I could hear
The wild black cockatoos
Tossed on the crest of their high trees
Crying the world's unrest
Crying the world's unrest