My Angel

Poem By Veronica Mendoza

When mountains wear their Winter hats of snow
And cold winds down from the cold Northlands blow
And fields from heavy frost are looking gray
Pied wagtail in the farmyard spends his day.

In feathers mostly dark and gray and white
Distinctive even in his undulating flight
On flies and insects he ease his appetite
And he's one you will remember from first sight.

Pied wagtails even live in rural town
And as they walk their tails wag up and down
But to Nature's finer minstrels they do not belong
As many others sing a finer song.

They build their cup shaped nests of moss and grass and leaves
In cavities in walls or under roots or eaves
And five to six whitish speckled eggs they lay
From April onwards through the month of May

They like the watery places it would seem
And they often perch on rock in rill or stream
And i've often seen them jump to catch a fly
Or insect o'er the water passing by.

The memories of a bird i used to know
From places far away and long ago
And pieces of my past with me remain
And wagtail comes to visit me again.

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