The Crimson Visitor in the Evergreen Mist
A vibrant spark of cardinal red,
In Washington state, where the firs are spread.
I'd fly over mountains and through the deep mist,
To find my grandfather, I couldn't resist!
I'd land on his porch on a wet, rainy day,
With a bright crimson coat to chase shadows away.
He'd be cozy inside, with his coffee in hand,
And he'd stare at this bird from a very far land.
I'd tap on the glass with my shiny black beak,
Then fluff up my feathers and cheerfully speak–
With a high, whistling tune, maybe
"tweet-tweet-t-woo!"
A whimsical visit especially for you!
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