Dedicated to Mom/Alison Crutchley & Nana/Maryanne Schaefer
How does the Cardinal stain his plume that brilliant shade of red? Perhaps
he borrowed the rose’s bloom from carmine petals shed.
Who gifts the Finch those brilliant flecks of effervescent gold? Who
does the Jay charm and sway for cobalt feathers bold?
Perchance the noble Larkspur bows with tributes of its hue. Enchanted
by the Jay’s display, who wheels and weaves through yews.
Perhaps the Finch’s golden wings were kissed by fields of yarrow. Or
could it be, between you and me, from an angel’s tears of sorrow?
And what deal was made for the Peacock’s parade, that
carnival of green? Could it be the forests and seas joined to paint that scene? And
the Swans with down of pearl and such ethereal luster. And just between
you and me, who made Flamingos blushers?
Perchance the ardent sunset’s lust couldn’t be contained. And
splashed the pallid, colorless bust of the simple Crane? Perhaps
the Swan that awed the moon, who watched from cosmic station, also earned
the celestial sparkle of starry jubilations.
Yet still these queries they remain enigmas to the masses. Like
the cawing Raven’s mantle, blacker than molasses. Yet still
I wish to hear and know exactly who’s to blame for
the Parrot’s rainbow quill and the Conure’s flame.
And still I feel I’ll never solve these riddles that they keep, like the
Lovebird’s sweet peach breast…
Or the Toucan’s beak.
