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.
