“The moment a little boy is concerned with which is a jay and which is a sparrow, he can no longer see the birds or hear them sing.” Eric Berne

BIRD LAND.
Oh why little bird, do you fly away?!
And why do you seem so distressed?
Come perch overhead-I’ll list to
your lay.
And watch o’er your cosy warm
nest,
Just a quick glimpse of the sheen
on your, wing
As you darted from tree to tree.
But where was your song? Why
didn’t you sing?
Perhaps you were frightened of
mel
Come pretty bird, on my hand you
may rest ,
And fold up your wings for the
night;
Sing just one song-’tis a parting request,
For each note will bring me delight
F. BURROWES.
Cairns.__

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Thunderstorms

Somehow heard from miles off.

tickle their fancy:

how they know is a mystery

as is their futuristic new grass count—

patches timed for chicks.

Barry Hill and John Wolseley

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