The ostrich is a gorgeous girl
Who knows she is, and likes a fuss
About her legs so glamorous.
Her flirting lashes keep their curl;
Her beak is round and speaks of bliss,
As if she's waiting for a kiss.
Her feathers are a light soufflé,
A froth above her legs so strong
And underneath her neck so long.
Contrary to the tired cliché,
She doesn't hide her head in sand;
Her speed is her defence on land.
She shares a common nest—each hen
Deposits eggs, from five to ten.
In one month's time, the young can run
As fast as any full-grown one.
©2016 Michael Fraley
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