A Dirty Bird

A Dirty Bird

The Ruddy-throated Blunder

Nests messily in the rafters,

Swooping in to make it’s raucous squawk:

“Aspersion, aspersion!” it screams, “Aspersion!”

So loudly that even the Carmine Thrashers nearby

Find their feathers ruffled,

And the Blue-crested Persisters

Spread their wide wings,

Crowing sternly until the harpy subsides.

The Ruddy-throated Blunder

Scratches at sullied grounds,

Searching for sour nuggets

To be presented as lure,

Seeking mate or mark

To screech alongside her,

And fill the assembly with noise

Without substance or sequence,

Seeking little result or production.

The Ruddy-throated Blunder

Flies and flails at the walls of decorum,

Shrilly croaking invective and epithet,

Excreting freely and often

In its own abode and haunts

Soiling the grounds where others tread

For it must distract from its old foulings:

Corruptions it must try to escape,

Lest it be caught and caged…

Once and for all.

Cliff Lake 4/27/2023

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