Wild Birds

After the chill, I return from the wild to the thicket to fly as the migratory songbird of the season so charming, in the rippling crispy breeze of the sparkling spring sky of the curved cobalt canvas with my spread-out wing. The bird born to beckon the bright flushing dawn light, I tweeter to the vibrant tunes of the sunburst shade, keeping the cadence of the enclosed avian delight in my beast beneath the scarlet coat that doesn’t fade. When all the yonder thickets are silent in slumber, I sing soaring in the silvery tracks of the first sunray. The melody I compose for the dawn to remember, as on the wings of the wild wind the notes drift away. If you see a bird hopping on the bowed boughs bare, clung to the tree outside your window on the sky blue, singing the sunrise song sailing in the drifting dawn air, know it’s me, the robin, ushering in a new day for you.