Birds in flights of fancy, making their way north.
Canva**ing the blue skies, necks stretched for all their worth.
Beating wings that struggle...squawks and quacks aloud...
Geese with tails a waggle, in and out of clouds.
Some form "V's" of letters, others leave vapor trails vapor
All with wings to steer them, resting as they sail.
Into drafts for Windstorks, Gliding like a jet.
To rookeries in south marshes...Amid Cypress trees to rest.
Small birds gently gather, among pine tree limbs to roost,
Pyracanthor berries...Their energies to boost.
Like buckshot out of bushes, as birds charge and swiftly fly.
Into gray clouds that gently shift...like dark forms in the sky.
Off into the distance...Heading north as winds do blow,
Old Man Winter's closing...His chilly, wintry doors.
Springtime's around the corner, and with her comes the sweet..
Calls of nestling's fuzzy balls. Bluebirds for their sweet...
Hearts to woo for mating, bird boxes for their homes.
They mate for life as we should...and never do they roam.
So dedicated feathered friends...among my garden here..
New buds of spring heard calling, these colors of the wind.
They visit every season, for the joys that they convey...
We feed them within reason...till their off and on their way.
So welcome, feathered fancies, come nest and feed my eyes.
Your colors are my wonder, as your rainbows kiss the sky.