I noticed a quail similar to the one below when I looked out the window during a mighty wind storm. There he was trying to keep from toppling over. As soon as he disappeared from view I ran for my computer.  He didn't seem worried, but seemed a bit puzzled, as the wind nearly toppled him several times. He inspired this poem.

Quail

The young cock quail

huddles in the wind

Tipping like a tottery

old man, seeking balance.

 

His crest flutters like

a flag in the stiff gale.

Huddled near a small

Japanese maple,

he turns like a

weather vane.

 

His beauty is stunning,

with iridescent stripes

that glow on his sides. His

gray-blue feathers

sparkle.

He sports a

stunning rich brown

apron.

I’ve never seen one

so close before. I peer

from the window, and

marvel at his beauty.

And wonder at

his solitude.

Sandy Mason 

May 19, 2022