_ _ _ king bird

Oh, flitty little mockingbird—you pretty feathered fool

Your flaunt your plumage, plumped up breast—the perkiness of youth

Whilst in your bath you splash and play, the tom cat stalks and drools

His hunger churned for centuries: a hunter’s sabred truth

With patience he shall bide his time as you let slip your guard

Forgetful that the world is fraught with dangers under wing

The summer’s gone, and snow falls fast—an avalanche of shards

Primroses frosty underfoot—you’ve lost the will to sing

Your beak is clamped, your sweet neck wrung, you cry a muted scream

Shapeshifting through time-trodden tales; a multitude of forms

(As does the counterpart who seeks you out for wildling games)

A turtledove, a staggering swan, a nightingale forlorn

For in the end, it ends the same—with feathers snapped and plucked

The savage feline has his fill; the bird gets mauled and fucked