The King of the Mangroves

The mist rolls in from the sea,                                                                                                                                                                                                 The seagulls crying aloud,                                                                                                                                                                                               They don’t notice him approaching, it is he.                                                                                                                                                                                 He is a King, but no one bowed.                                                                                                                                       He is a Ruler, but no one made way.                                                                                                                                                                                   He is a Lord, but no one hailed him.                                                                                                                                                                             But the King, Ruler, and Lord didn’t stay,                                                                                                                                                                               As he flew away, his shadow was dim.                                                                                                                                                                                       For food he was no beggar,                                                                                                                                                                                           He was a great, blue king, a Mangrove Kingfisher.

 

 

 
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