The golden feathers of a bird in the spring sunshine glittered,
Oh’ upon her soft feathers wind glided,
Alone she rested and in thoughts maybe,
About the flight when summer warmth in air dance,
And in the cold morning of the fall fly,
Through the falling leaves low,
The ones once were green and large and gave,
Shelter and cover from mother nature’s wrath.
Then about the migration paths to find,
Leaving the howling winds and the piercing frost,
When to the southern thin and warm air fly,
But nothing down south can comfort,
Like the big green leaf’s touch,
When the piercing sun rays of the late summer noon binds,
When rain down comes and upon the leaf and splash,
And under it when with soaked feathers sit,
With nudging little ones for cover squeaking,
Yet another season unfolding,
Yet another set of events to come,
So much dynamism,
So much fascination,
Yet, results of events and actions,
Same as gone by days.
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