A raft of penguins on a frozen sea
Expectant faces look down on me
Shuffle uneasy. The whistler plays
Counting eleven, they begin to pray

Tenuous but clinging, the missing link
Joins us, closer than we might think
Some half remembered coarse jungle drum –
A naked heart-beat, trill and hum

This world's no stage for the faint at heart
Each symphony, a sum of parts
Each overture, a sweet foreplay
Let's crash and burn some other day

Bonded in terror or suspicion deep
Tentative tiptoe or giant leap
Call down the angels to guide them in
A raft of penguins take to the wing