Migration Time Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The ice melts slow, the land wakes up,
March winds blow, a hopeful cup.
Eagles fly, on wings so grand,
Geese honk loud, across the land.

April showers, wash the gray,
Shorebirds peek, then fly away.
Tiny kings, with ruby crown,
Warblers flit, all over town.

May is here, the trees turn green,
A rush of wings, a vibrant scene.
Orioles sing, a sunny call,
Hummingbirds sip, before they fall.

Warblers bright, a rainbow hue,
Grosbeaks come, with rosy view.
The Mississippi flows so wide,
Welcoming birds, from far outside.

Mid-May's peak, a joyful sight,
Northward bound, in morning light.
Migration time, a magic thing,
New life arrives, on every wing.

T.M.Solvang