Waiting long and old,
Hand out far and trembling,
Feeling warm and cold
Summer breezes assembling,

One can hear them far
Off singing songs ancient
Twinkling as a star
Resting on sapping splint

Landing close with care
Talons soft 'tween digits
Eyes wide but not to stare
As beak pecks and fidgets.

Just one is taken
And with a fluttered blur,
My strained palm shaken,
It is off without a stir.