Judge the wren on his slender size
and you will think the little wings
and matchstick legs
make for disappointment.
That golf-ball body, easily concealed
in brambly, braky hedge,
and speckled plumes, stone and brown,
briefly glimpsed on mottled ground,
and that tiny tail, which stands upright
like a feathered sail to a tufted, airborne boat.
But judge instead his tune at dawn, as he sings with all his might,
and you will think wren fit to break the darkest, bleakest night.