The Peacock sits so silently.
In the sun, clouds, and rain.
Feathers in a robe of many colors.
Trailing behind, making a lane.
Every jet of blue, green, and black, shoots behind in its wake.
And a beak of subtle yellow, pointing out its way.
When he needs to cool down, or wants to impress.
He spreads out his robe of glory, and up come the jets.
So many are here and there.
Only feet away.
This calm and caring creature.
Adoring its lovely bouquet.
When he walks down the aisle.
The crowd falls to a hush.
This birds glory never dies.
Not its beauty or smarts, all lush.
Everyone admires its robe of teal.
Green, blue, black, all four.
Everyone loves the way he makes you feel.
Happy, calm, and more.
