A Tale of Migration

I awoke at 6 a.m. to the sound of an earnest warbler outside the window. He was telling a squirrel about his migration this winter. The owl hooted in derision.

It was too noisy to sleep, so I listened to the bird's travel tale. Here's what he said:

"It's not as glamorous as you think to travel
All wings and bird poop from the rear of the formation
Then, landing, vying for the twigs and worms.
Oh but to nest! you dream
When halfway there
After passing over bird feeders, left unused,
Because the others will not stop.
At times the landscape is a blur
Fatigue sets in
There is only rain, wind, cold and hail
No weather forecasts
Just the sky the earth
The call to fly north or south
Together.
And yet, little squirrel,
I miss it already
Being with the others.
Now is the time to sing of that
To celebrate the lessons learned.
Migration? It's part of the life cycle
The seasons pass as quickly
As the ground below."

All this to one who stores away nuts and twigs for the winter. I was glad I overheard, considering I've seen that squirrel dart between cars for amusement and I doubt he would appreciate a word of the bird's tale.

But who knows?