. . . and rabbit prints in the snow
The visitors to our garden come
In their twos and threes.
The ducks tap on our window panes
And birds sit in our trees.
The moorhens, squirrels, pigeon too;
The blackbirds, robins, wrens:
They disappear when night arrives
But next day come again.
In springtime they're accompanied
With young, just newly born,
And they expect, of course, to find
Some breakfast every morn.
Young squirrels play quite happily,
Chasing round and round.
They proudly show their skill with pride
As up the trees they bound.
So, who comes to your garden then?
You ought to make a list.
It's good to share the things we have
With the others in our midst.
Copyright on all my poems
This was one of almost 400 of my poems, chosen by
teachers and children in many schools for publication
in 2010. I hope you like it too. Josie.