The Poetry Corner

Duval's Birds

By Conrad Potter Aiken

The parrot, screeching, flew out into the darkness, Circled three times above the upturned faces With a great whir of brilliant outspread wings, And then returned to stagger on her finger. She bowed and smiled, eliciting applause. . . The property man hated her dirty birds. But it had taken years - yes, years - to train them, To shoulder flags, strike bells by tweaking strings, Or climb sedately little flights of stairs. When they were stubborn, she tapped them with a wand, And her eyes glittered a little under the eyebrows. The red one flapped and flapped on a swinging wire; The little white ones winked round yellow eyes.