Sunday, September 14, 2014

Ode to a black breasted wood quail

"Good morning," you shout
At the tender hour of five-thirty in the morning
"Squawk, screech, repeat, repeat, repeat, coo-coo-coo
Get up little toddler"
Awaken the bellbird, "Tweet, bonk."

"Get up, get up"
Run outside in your underwear
Searching
Dreaming of methods of capture 
Relocation

Is it really you, quail?
Or is it another bird
Elusive
Annoying
Good morning to you

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