Birdshooting Season 
Birdshooting season the men
make marriages with their guns
My father’s house turns macho
as from far the hunters gather
All night long contentless women
stir their brews: hot coffee
chocolata, cerassie
wrap pone and tie-leaf
for tomorrow’s sport. Tonight
the men drink white rum neat.
In darkness shouldering their packs,
Their guns, they leave.
We stand quietly on the
doorstep shivering. Little boys
longing to grow up birdhunters too.
Little girls whispering:
Fly birds Fly.
– Olive Senior
In classical times there was a custom in ancient Greece and Rome in which a wreath made of the green leaves of the laurel plant was ceremonially placed on the head of honourees, victors, champions, prize winning poets or playwrights. That ritual practice has survived and although we no longer crown heroes with laurel wreaths, we use the term “laureate” to describe those we honour, reward and celebrate.
