All my bird poems are written from personal observation. Fortunately there are two excellent bird gardens close by. Till I can load photos, search the internet for this gorgeous golden pheasant.

GOLDEN PHEASANT

You dither back and forth in your airy shed;
Toting a world of colour on your back,
Pedlar’s samples, shining yellow and red.
Gleaming blue, and dark green edged with black;

Camouflage! Oh, excellent excuse
For all this opulence of glossy plumage;
Red and blue and gold all put to use;
Black trim to every feather shapes the image.

The gilded helmet, like a pharaoh’s wig
Marks regal status, matched by stately strut;
Your dainty claw, poised under gorgeous rig,
Your sweeping glance, proud eye, disdainful foot.

Do servants throng, to comb those gorgeous feathers?
Do sycophants hover, to please your every whim?
Just a dowdy wife, companion in all weathers:
Khaki and black her faithful, practical trim.

Your life no different from so many others:
Courtship, nesting, patiently pecking grain;
But nature, in flamboyant bounty, smothers
You, cherished bird, in tints for an emperor’s train.