I watch beyond my window warm, <br />The melting snows of winter’s storm, <br />On a pole a house is resting high, <br />Awaiting my feathered friends to fly- <br />From windows, perch, and morning light, <br />They soon all return from their winter’s flight. <br />Then we again fine neighbors will be, <br />Enjoying the Spring, my Martins and me. <br /> <br />2/4/05<br /><br />Gary Bryson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/martins/
