whistle when
the April wind
in evening calm
and rising dawn
birds of black
and others back
chatter tunes
morns to noons
yet in the night
and quiet quite
the still is still
no buggy trill
so on what beast
these birds will feast
whatever wiggles
muddy squiggles
hop-a-long
robin in lawn
a look bygone
of dino spawn
a peck of that
after winter fat
gone more to thin
in April wind
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