Poems by Triplane Builder - William (Bill) Woodall
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For those of us who make our homes,
To the south of the largest lakes--
Many signs are said to predict--
The start and the stop of the 'flakes'.
For years we've heard of robins--
"The first one of the spring"
But many a time they froze their feet--
As their chirping song they'd sing.
Anxiously-- had jumped the gun--
The frozen ground yet firm--
They looked so cold and hungry--
As they vainly sought the worm.
And then the redwing black bird--
Was said to make the call--
When they appeared we could be sure--
No snow would dare to fall.
But I have seen them walking--
In snows that reach their breast--
And was sure they'd wished they waited--
Not yet time to make a nest!
But there is one feathered messenger--
That seems to get it right--
The junco--- with it's color "slate"--
Knows when to make it's flight.
When they show up in autumn--
Be assured-- snow's on the way--
Time for filling feeders--
For the chickadees that stay.
And when some time in April--
Overnight-- you find them gone--
Though winds may still deliver chill--
Very soon you'll mow the lawn!
So this bird (whose song I do not know--
And feeds only from the ground)--
Should get it's recognition--
'Cause it knows it's way around.
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