Yesterday on the way home we passed lawns full of robins bobbing their heads and pulling worms from the grass. Robins stay year round these days, with the winters so mild. But yard after yard, full of them, and the grass soft enough for worms to rise? Spring is coming...
Here are some spring bird poems for Poetry Friday:
Emily Dickinson:read the rest and more of her poems here.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops —
at all –
and from Poets.org:
There Will Come Soft Rains
by Sara Teasdale
There will come soft rains
and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,
Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
continue reading the poem here.