I flew up to
your window
You stood, staring
back at me
I spoke to
you in birdie talk
And you
knew, instinctively
You put our feeder
out
You got the
word to feed us birds
You didn’t
frown or pout
Get ready
Winter’s
coming
Listen to
your heart
Along with
trees all turning brown
The soft, sweet song of Meadow Lark
Get ready
Winter’s
coming
For nature
tells us so
But if we’re
far too busy
To heed the
signs
Then we’re
at fault
Can’t blame
the birds
They told us
in so many words
Then we have
no cause to whine
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