He's since worn
His welcome out
Now the redbird's
Weet weet weet
Is sounding anxious
In its hue
Early to spring
But late to court
Scarlet in the breeze
The male surveys
His prospect bare
Too bright to hide
An errant note
(Not green enough
To line a nest)
He fits between
These complements
Perched upon
A swaying bough
Until the redbird
Flies again
To find a wind
To carry on
His song remains
A crying game
Strategic in its
Local sound
Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013
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