Winged Migration
No one knew that birds migrated,
many thought they turned to mice,
wintering under leaves and grasses,
underneath the snow and ice.
One spring day someone found a stork
that was wounded and had died
with an arrow in its body,
on a dusty German roadside.
Not from northern hunter's arrow
or from European bow
did this stork lay on the ground
with a wound that brought it low.
In the spring of 1822
scientists learned about migration
from a stork with Africa’s arrow,
advancing bird-lovers’ education.
Please comment if you like it.
Copyright © Gerald Greene | Year Posted 2019
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