Our Birdbath Poem by Rod Morris

Outside our lounge window stands a birdbath I made,
And every morning I can now watch charades.

Birds line the rail of a moss-covered fence,
Impatiently waiting their turn to commence.

Blackbirds the big boys they take centre stage,
They plunge and preen while the little guys rage.

Time for the thrush in his many-speckled coat,
To show of his wares; take charge of the moat.

Chatterbox sparrows in numbers arrive,
Dive right on in and feathers revive.

Wee wax-eye finch with incessant flittering,
Do their ablutions till green coats are glittering.

Time for the old guy other side of the pane,
To clean the birdbath and fill it again.

Wee wax-eye finch with incessant flittering,
Do their ablutions till green coats are glittering.

Time for the old guy other side of the pane,
To clean the birdbath and fill it again.