We walk down the path to the calm, quiet woods,
“Chirp, chirp, swoosh,” and there I stood.
The birds soared above and were flying free,
Here I stand under this budding spring tree.
We look around, shake some bird seed,
In hopes that it will attract a Chickadee.
They’re tiny birds with little white cheeks,
Fuzzy black heads and small little beaks.
As we “shake, shake, shake” the bag of seed,
We follow my grandfather as he leads.
We watch the tree branch as the birds do land,
We pour out some seeds as we hold out our hands.
We wait and wait, not making a sound,
Many minutes go by just looking around.
My arm’s getting tired from holding it out,
As the birds fly away, it’s making me doubt.
One tiny bird comes close, after waiting so long,
It lands on my finger and sings a sweet song.
I wanted to jump with joy, but it scares them away,
I had so much fun and I just wanted to stay.