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photo bytzia62
photo by tzia62
The snow, white fluffy snow,
Falls silently to the ground.
I listen and listen for the slightest little sound,
Of a squirrel or a bird,
Their sound, cannot be heard.
They are nestled in their nests,
With their chins to their chests.
They look all around,
They look to the ground,
For food that has been tossed out for them,
Be it peanuts or bread,
When they spot it, they always lift up their head,
As if to say thank you, for being fed.
And in return, will entertain you with their antics and song,
When they finish, they hop merrily along.
poem by tzia62
