I count the birds from 1 to 10,
Resting wings on branches thin,
Tired so from Winter’s call,
“Abandon homes, take flight all!”

They run the race from north to south,
On wings of grace no time for doubt,
The place to be is warm and bright,
“We’ll make it there, through day and night!”

Away your songs, forgo your nest,
The journey’s long, hope for the best,
How can we know, just where we’ll be?
“Why it’s past down from family!”

In flying V’s, in pairs, alone,
We make the trip to find our home,
And find somehow we’ve made it here,
“A place we’ve known since yesteryear!”