There's A Little Titmouse

There's a little titmouse, on my Confederate Rose, Happy as can be, and reciting some prose. His language consists of various clicks, A fine feathered poet, impressing the chicks. He recites on a branch, then hops to another, He's enjoying himself, not the least little bother. Reciting his poems, to his friends in the trees, Letting his wisdom, gently ride on the breeze. Avians start to gather, like the Wrens, and a Finch, And the Cardinals and Mockingbirds, on the old oaken bench. Even our feathered friends have poets to adore, Even a Titmouse, can produce quiet a roar. May 22,2015 Alton Texas