Singing that song which has no words;
my garden's company of birds.
Three rainbow lorikeets flew down,
eliminating entrenched frown.
Their name tells all in colours bright,
surroundings glow with golden light.
No saying where once colour ends
as purple into turquoise blends.
upon my clothes-line, I'm ecstatic.
God's perfect palette, full fancy feather,
preening pretty in brilliant weather.
Pee-wees and magpies, black and white,
doing impressions of day and night,
join in the song, wordless remaining,
yet still they'd sing should it start raining.
Thank you God for the gift of birds,
their meaning clear, needing no words.
© 2018 cherryk
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