It is the stork who labours

to deliver baby Dumbo to his sad

and silent single mother.
The heft of a hundred-kilo sack

had to be held aloft across the Technicolor

map of Disney’s pre-war USA
in search of a moving target—

a humping caterpillar of travelling circus train.

Only a domestic flight,
but imagine the sweet relief

at unlocking his beak, the tension

headache born of bearing an elephant child.
He does his job with a smile,

offers genuine warmth in generous addition

to the contractual requirement of professionalism,
congratulates the long-lashed lady

and relaunches on monochrome wings.

His total screen time amounts to three minutes,
a seasoned bit player,

agent of plot progression,

class act who only weeps in transit.