As the birds prepare to take flight,
Their feathers ruffle,
Toes dig into the soft brown earth.
As the winds begin to pick up,
The trees shift in place,
And change comes gushing from the North.
The birds push off from their perches,
Salute the morning
With a throaty squawk that echoes.
And winter makes its grand entrance
On the wings of birds,
On the first breath of a new morn.