Little bird, I like your cheek
As closer, closer still, you seek
My fragments, though retreating at a glance.
My friend, you need no striking hue.
Your work-day drab will more than do.
You’ve style that no adornment could enhance.
Now your competition’s come
Fighting you for every crumb.
Hey! Manners! You’re as bad as all the rest.
Though your life may seem so free
To the poor earth-bound like me
Perhaps there can’t be life without contest.