A red-winged blackbird perched proud on a weathered post, Guarding the marshland kingdom like a tiny feathered host, His shoulder-patch embers flash bold in the sun, A warning to rivals that this realm is won. Reeds whisper secretes the winds like to keep, Frogs drum their chorus from water knee-deep. But he stands unshaken, the marsh is his throne, A king in the cattails, fierce, bright, and alone.
