A throne is one of a queen’s characteristics, if not the main one. How else could we explain it often being under attack ? However often the enemy is merely a foghorn. You block your ears, you go to the source, and turn the foghorn off. See, a queen is made. A queen is born. A queen is, and will always be. Dragons are mosquitoes to her, ogres are cockroaches, nemeses are parasites, but she is the queen of birds, and they feed mostly on insects. The birds love her because she loves them, and they circle her feet and lift up her up to her treehouses. There she looks out upon her and her people’s kingdom, and sleeps easy, knowing the birds are always awake. Other than owls’ eyes, the night is a perfect camouflage of the wildness that could lash out if under threat, because this is a queen’s work, her kingdom’s protection. Into the night and day, the queen says Protection, and the birds sing from dawn chorus to dawn chorus, overfed and overjoyed.