My Fine Feathered Friend

Her morning call has been mine for years,

it cuts across the vastness of my farm.

It wouldn't be the same if I started each day,

without that beautiful sound as my wake-up alarm.

She belongs to no one and yet we feel like family,

always knowing she is around.

The pleasure of her presence is rare indeed,

because I don't know where she is bound.

Each day brings a sense of excitement,

wondering if this will be the one,

that she chooses to stop and visit

and makes my home her place to stay.

A rare gift to the world is indeed what I see,

and I haven't known of any other like her in these parts.

That's why I hope she finds my hospitality,

a gift that will warm her heart.

Whiter than white are the words that describe her,

with her feathers spread so wide.

Her cousins wear the colors of a rainbow,

but she belongs to an unusual side.

Sometimes I see the plume above the garden railings,

and other times it's the fan that's in sight.

But as long as I hear her calling out for me,

I will welcome her day or night.