There is bird house

Out my door…

A home too perfect too ignore,

A batch or two of new voices sing

And bring in spring’s awakening

Little treasure’s

Yet to find their way among

the week, the time

To catch the grasses as they grow

With bugs and treats buried below

Snow soon sets in to bring again the howling

Cold and blowing wind…

Voices anew…

Do I hear?

Spring Spring Spring

Is here.