In a bed of stones, I pave the way, Tiny soldiers in a gray array. Crushed beneath wheels, I won't complain, Underfoot, I bear the strain.

A way to send messages for those in the pen and the sound of a song from a feathered friend

found in the sea but used as a greeting

I flutter in silence, yet rule with might, wings painted in crimson sunset, or robes edged in light. In gardens I dance, in courts I preside, a creature, a crown, two worlds I divide.

Amongst the fields of wheat and hay you often see, odds are there's big ol' me! Make sure to keep me under lock and key, otherwise you'll drown in more than just fees!