My instinct is telling me that
The winter time will soon be here.
I live in colder habitat,
So know that food must be kept near.
My favorite food that I eat
Is tiny seeds that come from fruit.
As winter comes, my goal to meet
Is lots of seed finding pursuit.
In safe places the seeds I hide,
Remember where all the seeds are,
Ability, my joy and pride.
To eat, I never need fly far.
This bird is called a chickadee.
I have an awesome memory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem