In tall trees I see many-a big nest.
Did the Crows compete to see whose was best?
A swarm of small dark birds, a long ribbon —
undulates through the sky, cold forgiven.
Fluttering wings, a shadow through the blind,
it’s the Blue Jay, whose friendship I don’t mind.
Their golden undershirts, feathers, showing,
as the Starlings hop through the grass, pecking.
Perched on bare tree limbs the large black Crows caw;
Are they passing judgment on what they saw?




This tough Crow will never shilly shally,
as it struts through the grass, terrain, alley.
A good attitude is a pennyworth;
the Mockingbird’s courage, infinite girth.
When these two birds meet, no SHILLY SHALLY!
Watching this fight flight’s a draft of challis.
Listen to birds talk’s a pennyworth, sound —
my subsequent mirth, happiness abound.
Colorful feathers float in the valley,
Natural Life’s no shilly shally.