I have musician friends who say
They love their ducks and geese
Who, landing on the river, trumpet
Honkings without cease;
Then gulls, and oft a heron form
The River Birds Quartet;
On top of this (that is, by air)
Fly, too, the Land Dectet -
The cardinals’ and robins’ notes
Distinctively all ring,
You know the finches, bluejays, wrens
And flickers when they wing,
And who are owls but the birds
You hope don't call your name,
Likewise, when rodents hear a screech
They know a hawk just came,
And then, of course, the woodpeckers,
Will knock, as at your door,
While crows, with caws, might sometimes make
You say, "Please! Nevermore!"
Still, birds, in concert, or alone,
By river, lawn, or tree,
Are never disconcerting, though
They constantly change key;
Their symphony for ear and eye
Puts in my step a spring,
Thanks to the Maestro of it all,
Whose praise all creatures sing!
Scott L. Barton
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