Let the bird sing
The natural world is awakening
Blossoming
Glistening
Shining
In the morning light

Things are ever changing
No one knows where to stop

Let the earth be
The frost is cold on the ground
Melting
Changing
Shining
In the morning light

Things are ever changing
No one knows where to stop

Let the crickets chirp
The night is young
Darkening
Quieting
Closing
In the moon light

All to start again
In the morning

you carried the summer here
to move to stop stop stop
to move stop move
across this winter field

olive-speckled smudges
dull-ish sparks
a-flicker over furrows
dusted with snow

are you really there
whispers the naked hedge
are there really so many there
sings the stubble

here, here chorus the flock
blown skywards like spume
banners dancing bonny
at some alarm

cast like confetti
in an icy sky
to settle sudden, calmed
unseen now

the hawk is past
the dog is with its man
the crow-wars
are still months away

Drinking dandelion-and-burdock
til you drop
fighting over the does
punting your second burrow
over the first swallow
the first frost

Playing reynard-roulette
with the yearling foxes
out all night
winding up the hares
“big ears – can't dig”
Countless children

A sweetheart in every meadow

Old rabbits die hard

No leaf
shall leave
her branch
undone
until she sing
with glory
displaying
a tapestry
of deep burgundy red and
bright pumpkin orange
autumn leaves falling
through
this
daybreak's gold

Oh glorious Autumn,
your beauty surpasses
Spring's delight.
Your blaze of colors
ignites the air,
as leaves fall
like sparks
to carpet the ground
with orange and yellow,
     red and brown.
Oh, glorious Autumn,
I love you best;
your fire
spreads across the
     hills.
Aspen, maple,
     elm and birch
adorned in decadent finery:
one last stand
before Winter's chill.
Oh glorious Autumn,
your beauty
surpasses all the rest.

there was a little mole a lovely chap was he
he lived in a hole beneath a great big tree
he like digging tunnels he would dig all day
kicking up the soil while going on his way
he left little hills scattered all around
where he had been digging while going underground
then when he got tired digging holes so deep
back to his little hole an then fall fast asleep

theres nothing i like more a wonderous site to see
i like to see the squirrel jump from tree to tree
jumping between the branches never ever still
bouncing in and out using so much skill
keeping so much balance he does it all with ease
making it look easy on his own trapeze.
then climbs in  a hole that is very deep
shuts his little eyes then off he goes to sleep.

The crow and the cuckoo look alike
Even the cuckoos are hatched by the crow
But they sing a different song
They can not live along

salt and camphor look the same
But their tastes are different
Salt is meant for adding taste to pudding
Camphor is meant for a god's worshipping

We can’t decide anything by its looks
Nor can we judge a human by the sweet talks
We should observe how he walks
In trying conditions the way she acts

Poets are birds
Birds use wings
And poets imagination to soar
High into the sky
Birds have light wings
Poets have delightful souls
Like birds poets knew no boundaries
They can cross any ocean
Or any nation
The **** wakes the world with his singing
And the poet with his writing
A pea-**** makes a beautiful dance
The poet depicts it in the lively verse
A cuckoo tells the arrival of the spring
With her melodious song
The poet creates a beautiful poem on spring
Which will stay for so long
Like a crow the poet tells
The world to share food
Like an eagle
The poet can see very far
Each bird tells something new
With its way of living
Each poet tells something noble
With his way of scribbling
Birds are part of nature
Poets describe its feature
Only poets look into future
They are creatures of great stature