Migration Poem by Audrey Heller

Birds of a feather, do flock together,
when migrating time is here. It's a
ritual that still occurs, every single
year! They will stay up north, as long
as they can, until the first sign of winter,
begins to show. Starting with the
prevailing winds and the vey first trickle,
of snow! Time is of the essence, they
must be on their way! If they wait any
longer, they're bound to rue, the day!
It's now time for the journey, there's
miles and miles to go. They're all
happy in knowing, they'll soon be,
where the balmy breezes blow! How
much, they look forward to, the warm
weather, not feeling the chill in the air.
Now, they can hardly wait, wishing,
they were already there!