There. Upon the wire they sit.

Around about they fly and flit.

For the journey, getting fit.

Not yet! Not yet! We’ll wait a bit.

Winters coming! Food is scarce.

The cry’s of gathering birds do pierce.

In their hearts. their courage brace.

As once again they have to face.

The open ocean. Wild and fierce!

Then as one they fly away.

Eager to be on their way.

They’re going now! No more delay.

But they’ll return again in May.

Tom Sullivan.