Down a two-trackin trail through the whispering pines
to the crest of a hill where the morning sun shines.
There at the top of a sycamore tree
a red-breasted robin acknowledges me.
His melody floats to the meadow below
that shelters the promise of spring’s early show.
A babble of bluebirds swoosh by in a whirl.
Rose-breasted softness beneath pastel swirl.
They flit and they flutter in waistcoats of blue
searching for breakfast above the morn’s dew.
A long-legged frenzy and then a shrill cry
allows me to capture the red in an eye.
I stroll past the thicket and high on a limb
a song sparrow trills its magnificent hymn.
Tweet. Tweet. Tweet. Triiiiiiiil.
Sweet. Sweet. Sweet. Thriiiiiil.
A crescendo of longing emits from the swamp,
as I step ever closer, where peepers do tromp.
Their deafening chorus fulfills my desire
uplifting my soul ever higher and higher.
That’s all from the Peacock Prairie poet. Have a good day!