Little bird, swift bird,
Migrating on the wing
Swooping in from southern climes
Our harbinger of Spring
Zooming ‘cross the pastures
While feeding in flight
Scooping up some insects
Then banking to get height.
Gathering up mud pellets
For nesting o’er the door
Feathering the inside
Laying white eggs; maybe four.
They are raising a brood
See the droppings on the floor
Sweeping in and swiftly feeding
Then back again with more.
And then the brood are ready
Tentatively they take flight
Til they too are flying
And we all take delight.
Scudding ‘cross the fields
And diving from aloft
Soaring to great heights
And through the clouds so soft.
But as Autumn approaches,
And evenings gather in
You’ll find them all chirping
From the wires such a din.
A flapping and a chatting
About the journey ahead
Taking the late sun’s rays
Upon their shiny heads
And then they take flight
Ascending in the air
To go thousands of miles
On a wing and a prayer.
Bon voyage little bird
By the sun you can steer
Travel safe if you can,
Hope to see you next year.
Poem and photo copyright Englepip©
Englepip's World 