That flap flightlessly
To abate your points
O time keeper to nature.
It comes to surface
That your throat is a microphone
And an onyx crown have you
For a comb. Your pupils see
Farther than the eagle into the
Mysteries of Time calculation.
Don't mind your toothlessness,
For air flows not in a blockade.
The clock is set at your crow
Aristocratic---appareled in
Ominous feathers. I salute your designs
For Solomon tried in vain
To reflect your semblance.