Standing in my kitchen
Looking through the window
At all the birds on the feeders,
Visitors in the snow.
It's a fight for survival
Though all seems fun and play.
As I watch the everchanging scene
That's so different everey day.
Late Spring is always the best
When the fledgelings leave their nests
And gather at the feeders
Playing follow my leader.
They sit on the branch and wobble
Like nervous tightrope walkers.
Some sing their songs in mellifluous tones
While others are just squawkers.
Sometimes their games and antics
Leave me doubled up with mirth
As I look through my kitchen window
At the greatest show on Earth.
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