Red wings

First you hear their sound,
a liquid trill, then the song plays out.
Repeats all day long.

They are back,
the red winged blackbirds.

The males stake out a tree or in some cases a blade of grass,
and just start in singing.

Equidistant apart, they establish their residences,
their territories, attracting mates,
much like the 2 legged creatures who delight in hearing their song.

They are back,
a sure sign of spring,
the Robin a poor indicator since so many
overwinter here.

Red wings,
their song,
it is spring.