As the butterfly’s flutter amongst the flowers,
Upon a cool late summer morn,
A Kingfisher or three come to visit our garden,
Bringing many to their window to fawn.
For these quiet pocket sized hunters,
Are quite a sight to behold,
For though they could hide in a coffee cup,
They perch in clear sight bright and bold.
With sapphire plumage highlighted with yellow,
A white collar and breast to match,
A clear shot of one with a good camera,
‘Tis something of a rather rare catch.
For they tend to be always diligent,
Ready to be come and gone in a moment,
Not wary but mindful of the cat,
For they don’t find him a worthy opponent.
Though ‘tis their spear like beak and speed,
That they deem to be their prized assets great,
Despite their unmissable characteristics,
They rarely slip to fate.
For when the Kingfisher’s come to call,
‘Tis a delight to one and all,
Unless you happen to be their prey,
They tend to leave one in a happier day.
The Poetic Life 2.0 