Well I for one have no clue what kind they are nor what color they are... and it matters not. The songs are what's important and each is beautiful to the ear and the spirit... I like your poem, my friend!
I know. There's this one little bird in my neighbor's tree. It has such a friendly morning chirrup--only wish I knew what kind of a bird it is. She's just gray, but dad has a yellow belly. Doesn't really matter. Their song's welcome by my window always! Good little poem.--Charlie
My morning starts with fresh bird baths,and making sure the birds have somthing to nibble... The songs are so beautiful,,I remember once I had a cardinal that came daily,,might sound crazy,, but I named him Boe. A bit of heaven,, with my flower gardens and singing birds....
A beautiful poem. Reminds me of when I rode the city transportation - same people, didn't know their names, but always got a smile from them. Maybe for a delightful day.
In Autumn mornings a little fellow, gray, with a spot of red on its chest will land on the veranda table and sing its heart out, eat all the bread crumbs and seeds, drink the water and go away without a pip...until next morning.
His name? I don't know, but I suspect that he was send by God to tell me something every morning until get it.
Georg
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Christine
Kathy
love and peace, Carole
And right after dawn. Like your poem the other day they all get ta singing.
Walt
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
His name? I don't know, but I suspect that he was send by God to tell me something every morning until get it.
Georg