Noisy, Noisy (Monday Poem)

by Jack Prelutsky


It's noisy, noisy overhead,
the birds are winging south,
and every bird is opening
a noisy, noisy mouth.

They fill the air with loud complaint,
they honk and quack and squawk --
they do not feel like flying,
but it's much too far to walk.


from Sing a Song of Seasons: A Nature Poem for Each Day of the Year
selected by Fiona Waters, illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon
Candlewick Press, 2018