We call him Mr. P. <br />He stands at the door <br />each morning <br />like an emperor - <br />aloof, with jeweled crown, <br />and heavily mascarared eyes. <br /> <br />We offer sunflower seeds. <br />He hesitates, then <br />with cautious grace, <br />steps toward the offering, <br />head jerking awkwardly <br />from side to side. <br /> <br />He has no home, <br />this wondrous miracle <br />of feathered cobalt blue. <br />At Christmastime, <br />his tail full-grown becomes <br />a fan of shimmering eyes.<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/peacock-story-1-mr-p/
