Twinkle,twinkle,driving into Independence,Iowa,
Past a yard,
Fifty if not a million,
Shifting from side to side,
Starling,Starling,
Winters birds,
Saw one crow,
Most yards no birds,
No cows,
Or horses neigh a field,
Just one yard,
Not a spot to stir,
Flutter, flutter,
Hungry winter Iowan’s birds,
A plenty,
Starling,Starling,
Little bird,
Cause a poet to thunk,
Of a poem my mothers’s favorite,
The verse played merrily within my heart,
I breathe out of habit,
I miss you so my Dear friend & best mom.
Val's Whitewolf Books 
Ahh good poem.
Usually birds that flock together in areas like that migrating to a warmer place. They stop to rest and feed. I remember seeing a lot when I was there. I think I ran out of bird seed quick from feeding them.
It was so cool to watch them.
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You were concern not enough birds were getting fed.
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