I hear them before I see them
And each year I stop all activity
To turn and watch
They give me the V
For Victory
Honking away the winter grip
Thawing back his fingers
Until old Jack slips
Soon there will be warmth
The smell of suncream
Just mown lawns and barbecues
The last bud will then have to bust
Then their deeds will be done
They will take off in song
A babble on the breeze heading south
And I will eagerly listen for them
In the forever of next years frost