I know it’s Spring because the brown hard soil
beneath my feet, begins to greenish be,
Before the morning light they’re chirping; all
a-flutter as they gather in the trees.
I know it’s Spring when safflower hulls and seeds
Are strewn beneath my backyard feeding stands,
And traffic jams ensue with swarming bees,
Swallows, finch and doves increase demand.
My buckets filled and emptied – more than planned,
It seems each year their numbers multiply,
The fault is mine, their appetites I’ve fanned.
And they depend, so to my feeders fly.
Cachaphony resumes each morn anew,
“I know it’s Spring,” sing warbles, chirps and coos.