Birds In the Weather

Male peacock struts his finery all over the yard Being egotistical is his tiny petard. The plainer brown females are utterly star struck. Wanting a little bit of his attention; is that a cluck? The pristine white hens’ feathers are all fluffed up and preened. They are peeking at the farmer’s wife through the door that is screened. Cock-a-doodle doo from chicken house is from their mighty king. He is a proud orange fluffy rooster, who at dawn does his sing. He’s so arrogant trills the robin, high up in a mighty oak tree. She is simple, unassuming as a tiny song bird can be. A blue jay responds with his terrible sounding ugly blah caw. Farmer comes out to feed, his throat early morning raw. The hens are in a frenzy, clucking as they devour the grain. They are trying to get it all because the day looks like rain. The peacocks are prissy, they stand back and roll their sweet eyes. The robins watch carefully. Hens are rude, they finally surmise.