Wings. - Poem by Bernard Shaw
I listen to the beat of wings,
The birds are busy building nests.
This is a wondrous thing,
That birds can do the best.
I hear the chorus at the break of dawn,
Of birds greeting the new born day.
They take off in perfect swarm,
As they find their effortless way.
Theirs is a timeless look for food,
To feed those waiting mouths in the nest.
They seem to be in a cheerful mood,
For natures palette is of the best.
Hungry mouths are fed on insects and seeds,
A varied food for helpless fledglings,
Parent birds fill those hungry needs,
As I sit and enjoy the beat of wings.
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