Silver-Peaked and Sable-Eyed

Through the eyes of a jackdaw

I scratch my squaw - who flaps to the floor -

And draw my claw slow, my curling toe,

Around my perch.

 

My ground surveyed, turf eyed below,

The herds are serfs to my eye's throne:

I serve no one.

 

The flat-bills pat at a pasty rat-tat,

A rabble dabbing, drably grabbing

A kingly prize.

 

Aye, keener eyes are in these skies,

A mean surprise for 'Chinese pies'

lies, biding time.

 

That time is mine. Feathers unfurl

Winds whirl, a flight-path curls

And dips to earth.

 

Their grips are worthless slips by birth.

My beak is quick, a clean nip-trick,

I pick and fly.

 

Silver-peaked and sable-eyed,

What's mine is mine by high design,

Discerning and

Able mind.