A coat of black and a dash of red,
Clinging to the cat tail, peering ahead.
Swaying with the spring breeze,
Temperature cold enough to freeze.
The red winged black bird, scarlet on black,
But a predator watches, ready to attack.

A coat of red and a face of white,
He's the reason not to go out at night.
The beast is lurking through thick spring mud,
Moving ever so carefully trying not to make a thud.
Bending its knees, ready to pounce,
Sizing up the bird, ounce for ounce.

However the bird is much too agile.
The predator will be hungry for a while.