BirdsIt is quite gloomy today. Snow is expected on the East coast, and no signs of Spring here. Reading a book of poems honoring our bird populations inspired a short poem.

This one felt like it had an inherent rhythm.

Remember that all poems posted here welcome comments for improvement.


The return of the robins,

sure signs of Spring.


Lest waters prove deadly,

Shores lined with their kin.


The trumpeting geese,

help all find their way.


Those sounds may be quieted

by landslides of grief.


Humming near flora,

Sweetness we feel.


Our movements so sharp,

they will not be seen.


A murky brown river

reflects no bright Sun.


No signs of Spring

Til the Robins return.


Susan Ward Trestrail

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