Poetry

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The birds are coming more often now;weather cold crumbs their fevourite
pecks of food,they chirp and sing;seeing the plate that i now bring,and they
seem to know the time,regardless of the day or clime,hunger is that quiet
state;patience for those who wait,rewarded with another plate;a lot more
than of late,landing on hedge's or on ledge' too,words for them are our
Human ways,can show to MAN their flight path's age,born with Wings,
they are King's and Queen's ;the sky a place to go either high or low,
all the Earth for them is a Perch they know,Starling's and all of their
other flying feathered friends,GOD told them all you know that you can,
so keep on flying then;shall we all say now Amen.
Joe.

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