Charlie was a pheasant
Who lived out in the bush
He came out when the sun shone
Eating insects in a rush
His wife was rather drab
In plumage next to him
She strutted across the garden
In sunshine frost and rain.
Mating calls would echo
Springtime rooster ruled the lair
Sometimes he had a harem
For the pheasant chicks to fare
Charlie was a pheasant
Who didn’t live for long
But in this time brought happiness
Despite his awful song.
©Alison Jean Hankinson
Submitted for d’verse open link night.
Hues of Hankinson 