There is a way to touch the angels of the skies: Gaining the trust of birds!
You must be crazy, after all, if a bird loves you.
We get very few quail. The last ones we got were domesticated birds that had gotten loose.
The crow flew closer, as if to hear its praises.
I feel I am strange to all but the birds of America.
A bush-warbler,Coming to the verandah-edge,Left its droppingsOn the rice-cakes.
Birdsong foamed in the hour-before-dawn garden.
I’d make a better lover than a dead bird. Probably.
Maybe one day I could fly all over the world and meet other interesting birds.
We would only order the housing of birds if there was an outbreak in this country.
First came him, then came I, then he came again and then I was lost forever.
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