The Birds Sings

It’s spring, and oh, what a good thing,
The birds are very active this early dawn.
I wake up at morning hearing them sing.
Even when a child I was very a where of the birds.
More then most kids I would say, or so
from mother I heard.
When I was seven or maybe eight, I had to

go to bed even thou it wasn’t late.
I could hear my friends outside playing, pictured then
standing at my gate.
Wide awake their I lay, listening to the birds singing
With eyes shut tight I would pray, thank
you God for the birds today.
When I grew up and fell in love the first time,
Again the birds were in my sight more then usual or so it

And I knew that the poets and song writers with there rime,
Listened to Finches, Sparrows, to Wrens and Robins,
Lifting our hearts with music and feeding our dreams.
In my forty’s and married, the mother of three,
I taught my children the things that brought

pleasures to me.
We spent every free minute working and playing in the yard,
They liked to do gardening thou sometimes it was tiring.
My heart rejoiced for the love of birds and song they were
It’s sunny and spring and I sit at my window and

listen to the birds sing,
In my seventy’s and getting near the end of my time,
Still making a list, building bird houses and arbors in
the back of my mind.
I stand up, thin weak and shaky, there’s  so much to do,
Back down to my chair my body I bring,
It’s best I just sit and listen to the birds sing.
Eileen “2011”