Spirited sparrows and wrens so dull and drab
mingle with cardinals beautifully clad.
Sultry robin pulls closed her robe
leaving her breasts cleverly exposed.
Flicker rounds on the oldest tree
and begins a steady beat.
Sweet arias of birdsong lift to compete,
their voices familiar and strong
while mourning doves amble along,
chaperones staying and swaying in step.
Listening and watching such beauty I wept.
Each bird’s note has a place in the chorus
of avian talent displayed before us.
Each wing and beak in flighty choreography
tells a breathtaking story of bird glory.
Insects hiding beneath dark-dank spaces
have no chance amidst such diving graces.
The sun arises each morn as do I
to enjoy their dance before birds take to the sky.
annarino writes 