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yikes!! more bird poetry




Stopping by Woods on a CBC Morn

Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the city though,
He will not see me stopping here
Beside his wood to count the crows.

My co-workers must think it queer
To brave the cold without a purpose clear,
To gaze at the nearly frozen lake,
These shortest and coldest days of the year.

They give their heads a shake
And ponder the meaning of  "drake".
The only sound's the "zeep"
Of White-throated Sparrows, now awake.

The crows are few and the owls are deep
In the wood.  But I have fields and dumps to see   
And species to tally before I sleep,
And species to tally before I sleep. 

                       --- apologies to Robert Frost

Donna S. Bailey		
Winnsboro, SC

e-mail: dsbailey@conterra.com

URL:  http://www.conterra.com/dsbailey
	Where are the Birds?  Migration across South Carolina