The Pheasant

The cock pheasant tiptoes through the dewy grass and curly dock.

Looking for tasty insects

Then suddenly he starts up, lifting his wings.

He raises his head as if to sing an aria, "koork kok", crows he.

Flashing spangles as his wings flap and quiver in the sunlight.

Lifting his splendid tail skyward,

The iridescent greens of his cap catch the sun as he tucks his head under his ochre wings

Sitting in the morning sun like a copper kettle waiting to come to the biol. Then suddenly he does...

His golden plumage displayed wide.

Rainbow colours of delight

Boldly beautiful, all calm returns.