Poecile Atricapillus

when fortunate enough to be living in a peaceful area where the mornings arrive like Grieg’s in Peer Gynt, the little bird, the smartest in line just after the caw caw cawwing crows, the jeering jays & the mimicking macaws, s/he makes her way along the limbs of an ample birch or outstretched oak to make an assessment of what the day might bring, whilst the dew still glimmers in the rising sun, the beautiful bird sings aloud & soon its fellows may come to join it in the tree, for there are enough branches & the day has just begun--- hopping lightly back & forth, with barely a flutter in between, in the early search for something to eat, as part of the ongoing storage for the winter, not heading south for a warm suntan & as long as s/he can avoid the raptors today, things should be smooth sailing from here on out.