A year or so ago, I was reading the fables of Marie de France and decided to write one of my own:
The Red-Wing Blackbird and the Queen: A Fable
The red-wing blackbird six days spent
in building well her bowl-shaped nest
of marsh’s mud, wet reeds and leaves.
About her loving task she went
until ‘twas time for her to rest
upon the bedding she had weaved.
And then a wretched cowbird came,
And said, “Your nest is best I’ve seen!”
then talked and talked incessantly
about herself and her good name,
proclaiming she had rights as queen
o’er all as far as eyes could see.
Her Highness ended finally--
and gave the blackbird room to speak:
“So, what is it you want of me?
And what’s the bounty that you seek?”
To which the cowbird soon replied,
“An egg of mine within your nest!
Not much to ask of you,” she lied.
“I’m sure you’ll do your very best.”
The cowbird egg was laid inside
the blackbird’s soft and cozy bed
and hatched beside her other three,
but grew so quickly long and wide
it pushed its siblings as it spread
until they all fell fatally.
The queen was well-pleased with her deed
of ridding the world of other breeds
but to the turn of time, oblivious.
This fable shows what comes from those
unworthy of exalted roles,
who are but brood parasitics
gladly killing their foes and critics.
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