The Crimson Crested Fowl

Consider now the crested one

that flies on wings of wind

who dips and dives and bows with grace

his flight to purposed end

For nourished life with beasts below

thou landest side of tree

with hardened beak and rhythmic drums

to reap thy food beneath

Thy crown of crimson raising high

thine eyes be black with fear

lest captured by the crafty one

thou circumspect those near

With thumping sound and rhythmic course

and hardened be thy press

and prompted be thy blackened wings

beneath thy whited breast

And close nearby related peer

with crestless rounded head

the miniature thy replica

though small yet be thus lead

With sequenced chirp and knocking peck

thou beatest like a drum

removing bark that doth reveal

the feast that be thy crumb

The morsels hidden well below

the bark inhibit thee

thy loud course thump be quickened rap

to get within the tree

So beat thou shall and thump with glee

the morning morsels there

till thou hast found another tree

and fly thus through the air

And I shall gaze upon thyself

and thou shall never know

I'll keep myself thus far from thee

and smile upon thy show