O birdies tweeting,
singing faithful tunes.
There’s no way
to know if you saw
a sign, “Vacancy,”
or if you own a limb.
O birdies tweeting,
sweetly and completely
surrounded by Spring.
Matters not if it's hot,
no complaints of rain.
O birdies tweeting,
how many occupy
my backyard skies?
Do you dart from
oak to pine;
are the scents divine?
O birdies tweeting,
how is it I never feel
bored, but attuned
to your...
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