Through the night, the visitors arrive,
Honking their return, a haunting sound,
But it heralds a fresh start.
It's still dark, but the chorus has begun,
Each bird singing louder than the last, to be heard,
To make the best impression.
On a frozen, but clear blue day,
They perch atop the spikey gorse bush,
Still singing fit to burst.
As the days grow warmer, the deed is done,
Alls quiet as they get on with the job in hand.
They've hungry mouths to feed.
As the sky lark trills it's spiral in the sky,
Swifts scream and swoop around them,
Swallows twittering as they hunt.
The young birds learn swiftly and soon fill the air,
With their clammer, "Feed me!"
They fledge and flee the nest.
Alls quiet once more, they return to warmer climes,
But the geese are back, their honking calls,
Change the atmosphere once more.
Back in Timperley
2 hours ago