The Blue-Crowned Conures

Perched together wing-to-wing
three conures laugh but do not sing.
They watch the shoppers pass them by
while from their lofty perch on high
with yellow beak in search of seed
they see the food, then grin and feed.
Such vivid colors conures bring!
They laugh away but do not sing.

Full of vim these conures are,
descendants of the dinosaur!
Their eyesight sharp, as is the claw,
the simply bide selection's law
as parrots in their pet-shop tree,
they gnaw the grain and laugh at me.
Three rascals from a bird-nest fling
perched side-by-side, but will not sing.

Avian trio through and through,
three conures with a crown of blue.
I see the laughter on their face
and notice subtle wings of grace.
And if I'm wrong, again I'll think:
I swear I saw those black eyes blink.
So perched together wing-to-wing
three conures laugh and even wink.


[Rhythm: 8 (except lines 1 and 9, which are 7] (Lines: 24)