21 June 2012
One night as in my chair I sit, (More bored that I would care admit,) I thought I saw a something flit, But knew not what it was, to-whit.
And then again by moonlight lit, It darted close and nigh-on hit! A purple hue it did emit, (With pink and green mixed in a bit.)
I sat and waited, teeth a-grit, To try and spy the nippy nit; And 'fore I knew it was legit... It stopped and on my head, it sit!
"Hullo, up there!", my words did spit, "What is your business, I submit?? What reasons do you now see fit, To sculpt my hair into a pit??"
From up above I felt a scrit, And then a throat cleared after it; And with surprise a sound did hit: A voice - which spoke with guile and wit!
"Your kind forgiveness, please permit, For this intrusion, most unfit; But your head was just the perfect fit, To roost, and cosy nest to knit."
"Who nests up there?" I asked of it, "A valid name please do commit! Before I write you out a chit, And serve with an eviction writ!!"
"I am Macaw," it did remit, "And my fancy is at night to skit; To look for house lights that befit, "A Watcher of All that's Lit."
"Did I hear you well?" I asked the twit, "That all you do is flap and flit? Then when you spy a house a-lit, You swoop in and make a nest of it??"
"Indeed I do," it did transmit, "But not just nest, there's more to it; My name's Macaw, I resubmit: I am a Watcher of All that's Lit."
"When will you leave?" my words did smit, "For you cannot hope to never quit??" "I'm sad to say," the bird did emit, "That I'm here for good - I can't refit."
Days went by, it's words were fit, It would not leave, that feathery twit; And deep into my hair it knit, That Watcher Macaw of All that's Lit!
So in my chair I still a-sit, With a Macaw worn like a mitt; But now I hope to never split, From my pink and purple Watcher-Macaw-Lit.
The Watcher Macaw • Opuss № I