Art is a flamingo.
It blooms in a flock of pigeons
But glamours more
Within the flamboyance of its own.
Art is a peacock.
It is the beauty of the ancient
That flaps its tail
Made of finest elegance.
Art is a nightingale.
It whistles its sweetest songs
With all willing creatures
Choirs in its unison.
Art is a jaybird.
Its plumage of cerulean sea
Colors its deep wits
Yet it chirps through mimicry.