As I turn over in my bed,
exhausted, I stare through the window.
I see a soggy ground and the lilac bush.
And those birds.

Those birds, always singing,
those orange bellied, and grey backed birds,
those birds with the blue eggs.
Those birds: the end of winter.

Tweet, tweet, tweet.
Those birds sing, happy to be back from the south.
Tweet, tweet, tweet, they sing their song of spring.
Those birds: the symbol of spring.

Those birds, sitting in the tree,
bath in the sun and search for worms in the wet grass.
Those birds, migrated from the south, bring the gentle weather.
Those birds: a welcome presence.

Those birds, wake me from sleep,
not to the biting cold, but to the friendly warmth.
Those birds, push out winter, and welcome summer.
Those birds: a symbol of nature.