November PAD Chapbook ChallengeDay 28
He really must be a birdHe waltzes around in his swallowtail,
almost sprouting wings,
I am at his beck and call, as he smiles
and whispers some lovely things.
Graceful and cocky, with those of his kind
he easily flocks together,
in twitter he's better than two in the bushes,
he's always in high feathers.
As high as he makes them fly at our home,
once they are ruffled best;
soon there is one in his cap, and he could
have knocked me out with the rest;
in case I have any, he clips my wings,
and shrugs water off his back.
"Some things will never fly," I say,
"however loud they quack."
I leave him on the sofa, probably
wondering what I mean
when I tell him to go to bed with the chickens
and get up with roosters
instead of me.