Busy Birds
There are many birds that gather
In my yard all through the year.
However, there is one I favor.
I wait for her to reappear.
You'll not find her at the feeder,
Like the others on the dole.
I think her mama taught her
Self sufficiency is the goal.
She and her faithful hubby
(Oh how that guy is trained)
Have come back to their love nest,
On my porch where it remained.
She showed him how to mend it
And he worked hard at his task.
Aything at all she wanted,
All she need to do was ask.
Their nest abuts the ceiling,
I bump my head before I see
If the little ones have hatched yet,
But if not they soon will be.
Once here, their mouths will open
And will never close again
Until they're big as their own parents,
But they're never offered grain.
No, it's bugs and bugs and more bugs.
They keep Mom and Daddy hopping.
She tells him they have mouths to feed.
There is no time for stopping.
While he is gathering the food,
She's shoving it into them
And passes him when he returns
From committing insect mayhem.
Now Daddy gets the job of feeding
While Mama's on the hunt.
In this nest of well fed children
You will never find a runt.
She grabs all of the mosquitos
That her little beak can hold.
Her mate is going out for more,
She doesn't have to scold.
You will not find better parents,
Human ones or otherwise,
Than these precious little swallows,
With a love that's supersize.
You would think they would be happy
When these youngsters leave the nest,
But they start another family
Busy swallows never rest.
Any villainous mosquito
Won't have a chance to do me harm
While these persisting swallows
Have a nest on my old farm
By: Joyce Johnson 6/17/03
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
