Quail Poetry

While sitting in a meeting a short time ago, I was gazing out the window and witnessed a scene that inspired the following poem and accompanying sketch. Then, while sitting in another office a few weeks later and looking out another door I was inspired to pen the second set of lines. I hope you enjoy!

Chubby Little Sentinel Chubby little sentinel, Standing on the tree. Watching o’er your chirping flock, Scratching in the scree. Oh, thou rounded sentinel, Chief among the brood, Your head bobbing worriedly, As the covey gathers food. Gentle feathered sentinel, Almost time to move. The hens and cocks peck on, Topknots in a groove.

Chubby Little Sentinel Chubby little sentinel, Standing on the tree. Watching o’er your chirping flock, Scratching in the scree. Oh, thou rounded sentinel, Chief among the brood, Your head bobbing worriedly, As the covey gathers food. Gentle feathered sentinel, Almost time to move. The hens and cocks peck on, Topknots in a groove.

The Quail Express  Sitting in an office chair,  Looking out the door.  A quail darts across the path,  Then two, then three, then four     Déjà vu in fast repeat,  They run in quick success.  They come and go and come and go,  Like a passenger express

The Quail Express Sitting in an office chair, Looking out the door. A quail darts across the path, Then two, then three, then four. Déjà vu in fast repeat, They run in quick success. They come and go and come and go, Like a passenger express.

 

 

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