You can prowl the night, lipstick in hand and purse swinging, singing a sassy little song and preening your feathers.
You can sashay gracefully in artful shoes:
while trinkets like these adorn you:
Or if you want you can just dress up like Chickita Miranda Chickenpants and have a party with some Wild Turkey.
We old crows are jealous. We wish to be your age again.
Ah, if wishes were wings we all would fly. A magpie can recognize itself in a mirror, but we old crows wonder who are those older women in there looking out at us and keeping us grounded in reality.
Except. . . we can look away quickly and imagine such wondrous things.