the twigs are still and quiet indeed the birds have flown soon it'll all be ice and snow and shrubbery in a white gown as everywhere traffic seeks ease of flow
i see that the birds have flown and that no more grass has grown no more daffodils, lupine and hollyhocks or the bluebirds, larks, thrushes and nightingales that jimmie rodgers waxed lyrical about
one swallow i see in acrobatic show of frantic rhythm to beat the snow but futile its extravaganza ever is for one swallow does not make a summer i see that indeed the birds have flown
being recently arrived on a visit to the british isles i was struck by the absence of bird song at the break of day. then it struck me that the birds had probably migrated to warmer climates. i couldn't resist the temptation to do a parody of the words of Charles the second on arriving at a belligerent parliament: i see my birds have flown. the pun is deliberate