The sun touches the ground,
Thawing out the ice that held it still.
Birds flock from their southern homes,
To inhabit their northern homes again.
I've heard some say their spring songs,
Are for the brightness of the sun,
For the beauty and the grace of Spring.
I simply smile at these fools,
Because I know why the birds sing so.
The male gender groom themselves
In my front yard, as I watch from my window.
He puffs out his chest, to look as big as he can.
He struts around the yard, his beak open in song.
This little man serenades his wanting to copulate.
The female gender comes swooping in,
Drawn in by the tune of his song,
She is soon turned on by his puffed out chest,
The redness of his chest glowing in the sun.
She opens her beak, and sings her acceptance.
With as much pride as he can muster,
This male gender bird grabs his mate,
Takes her right there in my front yard,
Like a man takes a wife,
Like a hound with his lady in heat,
Like the thirty-second-joe from yesterday.
He is done, he is spent, he is now on his way.
Leaving the female gender to raise a full nest.
