Red-Headed

Bedraggled old blackbird stalking my lawn
Jerking & shirking, putting on airs
Sneakily skulking about his affairs
Flight feathers akimbo he stands so forlorn.
Sidling, idling, never giving a yawn
That head cocking slyly giving me stares
& covered in a motley he constantly wears
Of feathers & fuzziness repeatedly torn.
He's out with the 'Dawn chorus'
He's back with the 'evening song'
Grabbing & grubbing looking for worms,
Yet, he'll not make a fuss
Well, perhaps not for long
If any young bird dares challenge his terms.