Dark, stout, and beady eyed
a spirited chickadee wriggles in the dust
fluffing and fanning her wings impatiently
struggling to clean herself of wanderlust.
Itching still with impetus, she perches
mimicking an expectant leaf
praying for rolling grey skies to drown this
vagabondism, up and up she tips her beak.
Though clouds threaten not a drop falls
so hopping through spotted grass patches
she searches for a region of golden blades
maybe this dream will be one she catches.
This chickadee, though precocious and fat
is anxious in her non-migratory family
she needs to move, stumble and learn
before she lets herself soar happily.
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