Bird Speak - God's promise of spring

In winter you will hear no beautiful mating calls,
or chirps of joy over the rising of the morning sun,

you who are famous with God who clothed you,
in drab shades of brown and gray,
and gave you a bold spirit,

survivor of the frost of winter,
come spring a great singer,
your song, rising in a musical burst,
then falling at the end. 

Cruising the hillside in silent splendor,
tiny wings spread dark against the sun
flitter and fluttering to and fro 

over the branches, brambles and bushes
to quick to capture
perched outside my window
doing a  gentle dance
cocking his tiny head this way and that
soft brown eyes stare back at me
the little brown bird puffs out its chest
and begins to sing softly
telling  me of days to come
cheery greeting the warm sun,
with love and great joy, for

a ground green with grasses,

a sky as blue as the sea,

for flowers, mountains, trees and streams,

giant bumblebees, snakes and lizards, and for creepy crawly things

and most of all for God's promise of spring.