Impossible!

The temperature inside that mound
of dampish leaves and sand is
thirty-three degrees, and in it
are a dozen baby birds all neatly bound
in eggshell.

I watch, and see a miracle;
that large grey bird, that Malleefowl,
has pushed his beak
inside the mound of decomposing
vegetation to test the temperature inside.
It is not possible
but now he's raking leaves aside
and dragging sand away,
to open up his mound,
and leave it in a cooling disarray.
The mound must be exactly thirty-three degrees
to incubate the fragile eggs,
thirty-three degrees, and that bird knows it.

Later, I push my finger in, and feel the warmth -
it's thirty-three degrees; I know because
impossibly, the Malleefowl decrees it.