Poem: Birding

(Fall… Still some birds around. Some stay all year.)


They flew high above,
So graceful, so elegant.
The redden wings,
Keepsake of the robins.
Bluebirds sing, sway, relax.
Red tailed hawks swoop and catch.
Sky is empty now, for a bit,
But once quiet sits:
The grandeur of their flights resume.

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