hope is a thing with feathers...
I was quite busy on the long weekend, visiting with friends on both Saturday and Monday, but in between I had time to get out into the garden, and on Sunday we discovered that our baby birds had started leaving their nesting box and were now hopping around in the flowerbeds, learning how to fly. We have no idea how many there were, they disappeared so fast, but I've heard them calling to each other in the trees so I know they must be out there somewhere. Surely they'll come back and visit some time.
We managed to capture this little one on film before he took off on his adventures.
Fluffy flies the coop!
And this morning I found a poem to go with the picture...
That perches in the soul
And sings a tune without words
And never stops at all.
And sweetest, in the gale, is heard
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That keeps so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea
Yet, never, in extremity
It ask a crumb of me.