Why, birds, must you be angry?

your cawing, dawning, cries

on forceful wings

with hope of spring

your ire, it mystifies

Perhaps it is your season call

a changing time, alerting

so others heed

your time of need

through winter, disconcerting

Lay still your ruffled feathers

each change is not by choice

and yet you can

as you began

make known your thoughts in voice.

Artwork by Nicole Anderson