I have a feeder, hanging on a tree,
That my feathered friends frequent.
So I stay away lest they should flee,
And to the sky be sent.
Sparrows, Cardinals, White Wing doves,
They all congregate.
Flying down from the trees above,
Around the feeder they wildly debate.
Sometimes I sit for hours on end,
Just watching their antics unfold.
And thank God for my feathered friends,
That come in from the cold.
11/18/10 Alton Texas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An excellent appreciation for God's creations.