Flight Migration Poem by Phil Soar

Flying as a group in V formation
Ready for a trip to some far away destination
Their radar not quite focused on the job at hand
They wait in groups of thousands in a ploughed up land

And who knows what signals them to begin the epic flight?
Some sunlight in the morning, or the darkness of the night?
But when that signal comes, they follow all without a thought
A flight of such proportions, a route that they've been taught