Three birds sat next to me today,
A Wren, a Thrasher and a faunchy, young Jay
The Wren was a mother whose eggs were at rest
in the house in the sky where she tended her nest.
The Thrasher, a dancer who hopped to the sky
and jigged in mid-air just to capture a fly.
The Jay was a plane painted a fierce shade of blue,
whose diving-bombing antics caused many to rue.
To me they sang sweetly this early Spring May,
And their whistles became voices that seemed now to say...
