Cuckoo or crow doesn't matter, surround yourself with birds,
Experience bliss and happiness, that is beyond money or words.
So says a new science study, and I count my blessings twice,
Each morning and each evening, as I place in the bowl some rice.
There are countless species around me, and I'm happy as a lark,
There are even some Siberian cranes, who flew over oceans dark.
Why do they keep returning, each year is a mystery deep,
How do they know I'll be there, and why do they take the leap?
For I'm whimsical and capricious, mesmerized by the birds afar,
Pining for what is out of bounds, and for grapes that are sour.
I dream one day of being with the bird, face to face in the foreign land,
Invite her to an all-you-can-eat, and finally, at last, my hunger will end.
You left the shore, eons ago, or so it feels to me,
Sans you, what joy, what bliss to boot- let dozen species be!
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