They Fly high, they fly low, sometimes fast, sometimes slow,

Spreading their wings across the sky,

Making a pattern line wise,

Flying over the lakes like a breeze trying to catch a meal,

Over the valleys and the streams, they make their nests in the tallest trees,

They make chirping and whistling sounds,

The morning fills them with energy and the nights are dark,

It is difficult to survive when winter sets in and its difficult to fly,

They travel across the seas across the vast lands,

They build a new nest every time they need, moving from one place to another is their frequent routine,

Colorful like different shades of paint, blue, black, green, purple they are a pretty site,

If I was a bird and could fly I would travel the world and touch the sky,

It is a tough life for survival they are no easy buys,

Fly away birds,

For you are an amazing sight….