A bluebird
is a poem
unspoken
© Freeda Baker Nichols
A bluebird
is a poem
unspoken
© Freeda Baker Nichols
from limb of a tree
to the top of the table
little bird flies
© Freeda Baker Nichols
a bird on a stump
sunny day in springtime
weathered bluebird house
© Freeda Baker Nichols
juvenile bluebird
perched on a hickory stump
September morning
© Freeda Baker Nichols
Birds of many colors
spread your wings to fly
upward to the treetops
on up into the sky.
Birds with sweetest voices
sing now across the way
begin a happy melody
in every heart today.
© Freeda Baker Nichols
bluebird scouts
small vacant houses
springtime
© Freeda Baker Nichols
Bluebird,
perches calmly–
feathers preened.
© 2016 Freeda Baker Nichols
This Bluebird landed on the broken water gauge which is shaped like a Hummingbird. And tonight, this poet is at a loss for words for a poem to complement the picture. This Bluebird is one of my favorite birds this summer. His and Mrs. Bluebird’s first hatchlings have flown the nest. The parent birds are still nesting. In time, their second little family will hatch and also leave the nest. I wish I could keep these adorable bluebirds here in my yard throughout the four seasons. I know that is not possible. But even a poet with no words can wish.
When it’s April in the Ozarks
and the birds are on the wing,
when the showers falling gently
cause the meadowlark to sing.
The bird of blue fights the sparrow
and wins the honor to nest
inside the little house of wood
with its doorway facing west.
When it’s April in the Ozarks
and it’s time to welcome spring,
in a garden filled with flowers
there’s a bluebird who is king.
© 2015 Freeda Baker Nichols