Bird

Bird


Flapping,

Fluttering,

Flying through the air,

The warm breeze flowing through my feathers,

The sweet smell of nectar fills the air,

I swoop down to the flowers,

I see buds on the trees,

I want to stay, but I must fly north,

I twirl in the air,

Diving down to the stream to catch my lunch,

I fly over hills,

The grass getting greener as I go,

Finally I’ve flown to where spring has sprung.


By Bree Sarandrea
Age 10
Killington Elementary School