Dipping down to the river below,
twittering, twittering,
little sparrow.
A crow is cawing
up above,
in contrast with
the mourning dove.
Slinking by
across the way,
a ragged tomcat
stalks his prey.
But Momma Bird cries
a warning so loud,
baby birds fly,
all up in a crowd.
A fishy smell
Is in the air,
the seagulls glide,
without a care.
Like children they play
on the wispy spring breeze,
upward, then down again,
flying with ease.
The last bit of snow,
winter's final embrace,
melts away to reveal
the river's new face.
A face full of beauty,
of nature, of God,
the face of the spring,
beneath winter's thaw.
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