The Golden Son

The sparrow, born gold, flew boldly wherever he chose

Though his bronze bird mother, and bronze bird father

In hushed tones of the morning admitted, before he rose

“He cannot be our own, and cannot be our children's brother!”

Freedom being rejection's homonym, he was invited to leave

Which a naïve golden bird can only understand as caring.

The privilege of being independent, perceived as though a sieve

Shows the value of decisiveness, of persistence and of daring

Natural selection proved, the sheen of the gold was just

enough to outwit the owl, who for ages knew but yellowed brown

Sexual selection proved, the radiant glow of gold was bust.

With the gold sparrow, not the least of the bronze would be found

With faltering spirit he wondered, “but failing to fulfill

my natural purpose, what now can I do? What worth have I?”

...An amused owl noticed the familiar flapping and bird trill

Yet saw a different sparrow approaching – one brave enough to die

“What,” asked the owl “leads my prey to feign

equality - even superiority - and seek me in my own nest?

Does your hue cause you to tremble with electric pain

That you seek my hunger to provide your rest?”

He has already guessed it, thought the golden bird

As he sighed, “Oh, what is the use of gold? It once was my

pride. And how! Now, my heart is turbulently stirred

By loneliness, like a hurricane which wrecks the sky”

From dusk until dawn, they spoke, though nothing was said

That upset the sparrow's melancholy, until finally the owl relented

“No, you're not even fit for kin – mine or yours – alive or dead.

Thus you remain free.” The sparrow's mood repented:

This grant of freedom, this rejection though dealt so coldly

Provides a surge of courage much greater than ever before.

For I know that where I – the golden son - venture boldly,

My dominion will expand, untouchable by prey and predator