A Little Birdie Told Me.

I wish I could talk bird,

then I could tell you all the stories I heard.

During the morning chatter,

as the flocks gather.

High up in the maple tree,

waiting for bread that’s free.

They come to play,

each and every day.

In pouring rain or bright sunshine,

their songs are always fine.

©Kimberly Wilhelmina Floria 5/8/2012

12 thoughts on “A Little Birdie Told Me.

    1. You know, my writing teacher said, we never know if our most meaningful writing could come from the animals, or objects, or dead people. In our class, we are asked to do that. That poem so short, yet so calming, so healing!

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