Spry little birds,
stopping by for
seeds and weeds,
perch on limbs of
freshly budding trees.
Return they do
each year,
to sing their
gay rhapsodies
outside my window;
build nests in hanging
baskets on my porch.
Such industry
an ongoing life process;
I, too, feel renewed
in Spring.
Did you enjoy the the artible “Song Of Spring” from Carolyn Brunelle on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
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