Sunday Sestina about Birds

Thunk lands the scrub-jay
startling the dove
whose beak was in her armpit
Next door, making all sorts of noise, is that chicken
The dove looks around
for the thunk-source of the sound

It was a thick clunk, really, the sound,
so heavy was the scrub-jay
from his feet to his crown, all around
Quite the mass of more than three doves
Stretch the wings from the armpit
Still crazy, insane, that chicken

What? What? What? What? screams the chicken
She hadn’t even heard the thunk sound
She was chasing her own armpit
She was unaware of the scrub-jay
She was going around and around and around
The heartbeats did slow in the dove

The dove,
so calm compared to the chicken
who was still going around and around and around
But the heaviness of the sound
How could something fly after such a thunk, that scrub-jay?
It was like he held lead weights in his armpits

The softest place on a bird is the armpit
Always protected, especially on a dove
Somewhat less so, on the scrub-jay
And it is a tasty place, of course, on the chicken
But we will not make that sort of a sound
Think not of eating, think around

that sort of thing, think around
Think nothing of eating the chicken’s armpit
That would be a horrible sound
to let escape from our mouths, said the dove
Don’t let her hear, don’t let the chicken…
She’s already half-mad, yes, Mr. scrub-jay?

Oh, yes, said the scrub-jay, certainly that chicken
is as insane as an armpit with no sound
Oh, yes, echoed the dove, and will you take me around?