The Cardinal's Carol

 

A fairer bird you'll never see

Whether man or wife, they'll always be

A pair that floats from place to place

That shares their lives from face to face

Ever near, theyll always be in sight

On ground, in trees or e'en in flight 

For once they pair, as true love bids,

They watch each other and their kids

Though some see him as brilliant red

That's true, of course, on tail and head

And always on his tum and chest

But his back is oft' not like the rest

He has both shades of gray and tan

That spread across his back and fan

But only if you're male of course

For she is dressed from a different source

She's tan and taupe and beige, with flares of red

That glow from tail to crest upon her head

Though not as bright as he may be

She shines and reigns in dignity

The cardinals sing a song so sweet

A whistle, then some tweets repeat

A clear and urgent call 'tween them

To stay in touch, both her and him

They share their lives and raise their own

Until they fledge and all have flown

They are not spirits of those gone by

Just God's emissaries 'tween earth and sky

Written by D L Warbritton , no publishing of any part without exclusive permission from thew author. 10/20/22

Bluebirds and Butterflies

 

Often times we see our kids 

And think how we've been blessed,

"Don't know what we would do"

We have oft confessed.

"If God had not sent them to us

To share their love and joys",

It matters not whether they

Are little girls, or little boys.

Like God's creations in the air

That fly throughout the skies,

Kids are really nothing more,

Than bluebirds and butterflies

Scattered toys and games are all

In our fondest thought,

Our kids have blessed us everyday,

In ways that we never sought.

But life is short and kids grow up

Toys and games are left behind,

 Memories are stirred within,

Our hearts are silver lined.

Like God's creations in the air

That fly throughout the skies,

Kids are really nothing more,

Than bluebirds and butterflies.

Beautiful and filled with love

They dart across our souls,

They leave their mark upon our hearts

And fill the countless holes.

If one perchance, does leave this earth

And go to a fairer land,

We simply try to trust and hope

That one day we’ll understand.

Like God's creations in the air

That fly throughout the skies,

Kids are really nothing more,

Than bluebirds and butterflies

And so we watch and hope to see

The things that makes us sigh,

Like the face of a lost loved one 

                               In a bluebird,.....or butterfly.....

Ode to the Chickadee

Watch me dart and swiftly fly

'Tween the trees and through the sky

It’s very hard to see my flight

In morning sun, or evening light

Sometimes, I drop from up above

Sometimes, I glide in, like a dove

It’s hard to know from whence I flew,

Whether evening mist or morning dew

Though tiny in the scheme of things

My heart is brave and often sings

For all is well and food is here

To share with all, both far and near

When I sing, it sounds like chatter

What you hear, it does not matter

For others of my feather hear

And let me know to have good cheer

I’m black and gray, with a snowy touch

No reds or blues, nor showy such

Just woven grays to make me blend

And an angel face, help me transcend

I am smaller yes, than most my kind

And yet our souls are intertwined

For I am larger than the eye can see 

I am the intrepid, chickadee

Written by David Warbritton Sr - do not duplicate, publish or print
 without express permission from D L Warbritton Sr

THE TITMOUSE'S PRAYER

Thank you Lord for this glorious day

For this cool drink found along my way

Lord thanks for folks who seem to care.

There's always plenty of food to share

They provide whatever meets my need

And a few of those worms, what a treat indeed!

My eyes are big, of that, no doubts

Thank you Lord, for this crest that sprouts.

When small like me, it's good to be quick

To escape the wiles of those who trick

I know you hold the sparrow dear

I'll trust your care, and show no fear

Thank you Lord for my wings to fly

That enable me to dart through the sky

I know you'll provide for all my needs

Like the poles in this yard that are full of seeds

And thank you for those human hands

Who fill the need of all that lands

Amen

(Overheard yesterday morning)

No copying or publishing without express permission from D Warbritton

Ode to the eastern Bluebird

 

Ode to the Eastern Bluebird

The bluest blue you’ll ever see, comes not from sea or skies

But floats about from limb to limb, as any bird that flies

Shy and unassuming, they select a mate to pair

Keeping to themselves, they build their nests with care

Folks may build them boxes to house their family brood

Where mom will sit to keep things warm, and dad provides the food

The eggs are blue but not as deep as the feathers of the two

And the chicks when they break out, have nary a shade of blue

When the fledglings fly away at last, and leave their nest behind

It takes a while to lose their spots and all their colors find

While mom is blue with tones of gray, and a faint rusty breast

Dad's a brilliant blue, all trimmed in white, with a deep copper chest

Bluer birds you may have seen, if you’ve travelled here and there

But none compare to the handsome pair that grace your garden fair.

'Cause the bluest blue you’ll ever see resides right on your street

The American Eastern Bluebird is the bluest bird you’ll meet.

The Hermit Thrush

 

What joy to see this hermit land

To share your presence where you stand

He left his place of quiet solitude

To share a meal in open interlude

He flaps and jumps around the yard

To grab a worm, it is oh so hard

But he always finds a worm just right

To fill his need, while still it's light

His colors are as a muted veil

Tan and brown with a rusty tail

His stealth is like a muted hush

For he's the vaunted hermit thrush.

Seldom seen but always welcome

Rarely heard but sings quite awesome

Stealth and recluse his nature be

But a hungry hermit will leave his tree

For life as a hermit he's compelled to be

But even a monk needs a cup of tea

So sit back and wait, and you will see

This beaut' may land in your backyard tree

Ballad of the White-breasted Nuthatch

 Lord, thank you for the sun today

Thanks that the rain has stayed away

Easy it is to store my seed

And hide away, for winter's feed

And thanks for folks who put it there

Who fill the trough with love and care

And thanks for trees, with bark that's cracked

I stuff the seed both deep and packed

I find enough when warm and sunny

When bugs are out and bees make honey

But when summer's gone, and cold wind assails

I'll have enough till Spring avails

Mostly gray with breast of white

With head of black, a handsome sight

I dart and twist with moves of deft

I move so swift from right to left

But mostly when you see me light

Twill be inverted, which don't seem right

But up is down, and don't you see

Down, is always up to me

Written by D Warbritton 2022, no reprints or reproductions without express permission of author,