The Mourning Dove
by Helen George

Of all the birds who swarm high above,
the little gray-brown mourning dove
makes the sweetest sound of them all -
everything stops when I hear the call,
my ears perk up as I wait to hear more
of this simple tune that I now listen for.

I'm enthralled when I hear the first note,
trilled sweetly on the air it seems to float,
a soft coo issues forth - calm and serene,
a long drawn-out woo-oo-ooo it does keen,
everything pauses, there's a hush all around,
and I'm mesmerized by this lovely sound.

My Swans
by Helen George

My home is on the banks of a little creek,
Gazing along the edge I spot an orange beak,
Then this snowy white swan suddenly appears,
With seven little cygnets bringing up the rear.

As they float along, they bring a smile to my face,
The pen crooks her neck with such elegant grace,
She fluffs her great wings while dipping her head,
Searching out food while she silently treads.

Late afternoon brings the return of the cob,
Their beaks touch gently as on the water they bob,
They've mated for life and will nurture their brood,
Keep an eye out for predators lest they intrude.

They came last winter and decided to stay,
And the little ones arrived at the end of May,
I watch them in wonder, such a joyful sight,
Willing them to remain and not to take flight.

The Gray Wolf
by Helen George

The gray wolf is a sight you don't often behold,
He roams the wilderness, living wild and bold,
As an alpha male, he will dominate the pack,
Keep them always moving, following the tracks.

A magnificent specimen of the canine breed,
His long haired coat, which is splendid indeed,
May bear the markings of a Shepherd within,
While his face resembles his Malamute kin.

He mates for life and reproduces each spring,
The pups stay close, to their mother they cling,
Late in the summer they emerge from the den,
The pack is protective, their lives they defend.

A predator, the gray wolf's extinction seemed near,
But people intervened and over a course of years
A promising comeback was made - for today,
He's a wild creature whose freedom holds sway.

Wild Geese
by Helen George

Today I was treated to an awesome sight,
A flock of wild geese passing over in flight,
They fly while emitting a honking sound,
I watch as they move off, homeward bound.

The traditional vee formation holds sway,
With the strongest of them leading the way,
They'll travel miles before stopping to rest,
With food and shelter their overall quest.

At home in the north, the gander and his goose,
Guard their goslings at the sight of their roost,
Protect them from harm until they have grown
Self-reliant and strong, able to fend on their own.

Winter emerges and the weather grows cold,
Then an ages-old instinct begins to unfold,
The time for migration is felt deep within,
And the great trek southward slowly begins.

Is It Really Affection
by Helen George

My kitty just rubbed her chin against mine,
In return, I stroke her and tell her she's fine,
Is this how she chooses her love to define?
Or knowing I'd stroke her, is it done by design?

She rubs against my legs and meows so sweet,
For this show of affection, I give her a treat,
And I let her in bed when she paws at the sheet,
Is she showing she loves me or is this deceit?

When I arrive home, she meets me at the door,
Where she soulfully gazes as if to implore,
My bowl is empty, won't you please give me more?
If she weren't hungry, would she choose to ignore?

I sometimes wonder at these signs of affection,
When she's rewarded, is there some connection,
If such displays of love bring compensation,
Is it really affection... or an affectation?

Fledgling Sparrow
by Helen George

While watching the birds from my patio door,
I witnessed a sight I'd not witnessed before,
A tiny little sparrow, not yet full grown,
Was sitting near the fence waiting all alone.

It's a fledgling sparrow not long from the nest,
Trying out its wings and now stopping to rest,
It fluffs out its feathers and opens its beak,
Calling for the mother bird, it lets out a squeak.

Then bravely it flies up to the top of the fence,
Where the mother bird sees it and does commence
To offer it food from one beak to another,
It may have left home, but she's still its mother!

Little Gray Squirrel
by Helen George

From the fence, I hang food for the birds to eat,
And suet cakes have become a great treat,
Starlings are drawn to the peanut flavored one,
Peck away happily, fly off when they're done.

Lately, I've noticed a little gray squirrel, who
Has caught scent of this peanut suet cake, too,
He'll reach this treat, though the cage bars his way,
He won't give up trying if it takes him all day.

As he gallantly endeavors to reach his aim,
He favors his right hind foot 'cause he's lame,
But this doesn't impede him, he's found just the way,
And he hurries to try this without delay.

He hangs from the top of the fence by one foot,
On each side of the cage, his little hands he has put,
He gnaws 'tween the bars and eats with great zest,
Then lies atop the fence to take a short rest.

Tired from the effort of hanging upside down,
He scampers away, heads for the ground,
When he reaches the safety of the old oak tree,
He lies down again, exhausted, but pleased.

My Sweet Little Sugar
by Helen George

Sugar was very ill when she came into my life,
To keep her alive became a great strife,
She had constant diarrhea and wouldn't eat,
But she was always alert and, oh, so sweet.

The vet was baffled, couldn't find a cure,
What ailed poor Sugar was very obscure,
We tried every remedy, ran the whole course,
But nothing worked and she only got worse.

There were times she did seem a little bit better,
Always a trouper, you couldn't help but love her,
Sugar was playful, she soon captured my heart,
I didn't want to lose her, didn't want us to part.

She became very weak, could hardly move around,
In the end, it was more merciful to put her down,
So I held her, stroked her, and cried many tears,
The memories I have will keep her always near.

My Black Cat
by Helen George

My black cat and I have a good rapport,
When I arrive home, she greets me at the door,
I reach down and pet her, whisper hello,
I'm happy to see her, I want her to know.

And she feels the same way, she's letting it show,
She brushes 'round my legs, meows her hello,
Reaches up and puts her paws on my knee,
Imparting her message "Won't you please hold me?"

So I hold her and stroke her under her chin,
And she purrs her delight and says do it again,
Rubs her chin against mine, I know what she meant,
She's showing she owns me by leaving her scent.

At times, when I'm standing bare-footed, I'll feel
Her sandpaper tongue as she licks at my heels,
Sometimes, when I stroke her, she nips at my arm,
But ever so gently, she means me no harm.

My love for my cat is whole and unmatched,
And she loves me right back, no conditions attached,
We're happy together and will stay that way,
Till one or the other of us reach the end of our days.

Cat Antics
by Helen George

They decided to let me sleep atop the TV,
Agreed not to move me, just let me be,
That this could cause a problem was quickly seen,
As I dropped my tail in front of the screen.

They bought me some brand new catnip toy,
Thought it would work, an excellent ploy,
I prefer to paw in the dirt, kick it all about,
That old flower pot's fun, of that, have no doubt.

Sometimes I assent to play with them there,
Catching the toy as it flies through the air,
Then I suddenly stop, ignore them, cry foul,
That's it, I'm done, I'm through playing now.

But, when all's said and done, I'm not a jerk,
I know how to win them, I give them a perk,
I rub against their legs, look up and meow,
They're thinking I love them (I'm thinking chow!).

The Cat
by Helen George

If you've ever deigned to be owned by a cat,
You know the cat rules, there's no doubt about that,
He's pampered and spoiled, and thinks he's quite cool,
He knows how to play you, he's nobody's fool.

That comfortable chair where you wanted to rest,
Has been claimed by the cat as his own little nest,
And, at night when you're lying in bed really beat,
Watch out for the cat who'll attack your feet.

Just when you think you've found his favorite food,
He turns up his nose, in quite a finicky mood,
And when you call him, he's nowhere to be found,
Oblivious to the fact that you're searching around.

If and when you do find him, I think you'll agree,
The look on his face says "Were you looking for me?"
The old saying's so true, I can attest to that,
"You're nobody till you've been ignored by a cat."

My Patio Birds
by Helen George

On my patio fence, I hung a bird feeder,
Hoping to tempt birds, entice them to eat here,
And, lo and behold, a flock of sparrows appeared,
As I watched through the door and silently cheered.

Then the little gray squirrels the peanuts would chew,
And the bluejays, too, grabbed a peanut, then flew,
Occasionally, a robin was spotted walking around,
Looking for worms while pecking the ground.

This morning brought a pair of cardinals, bright red,
They pecked at the seed, but when startled, they fled,
On the ground, several mourning doves waddled around,
I'm entranced by their cooing, what a marvelous sound.

Then later, starlings arrived for the suet cakes,
Feet clinging to the cages, they peck, dropping flakes,
And three times I saw a very large black crow,
I'm staring in awe, can this really be so?

The Bear
by Helen George

From my mountain cabin, I saw quite a sight,
As I rocked on my porch in the evening twilight,
Just plodding along, often sniffing the air,
Down aways in the wood was this awesome brown bear.

He pondered a while and pawed in the brush,
Searching for food, in no particular rush,
Then some berries he spied and began to eat,
As I smiled in delight at this very rare treat.

Bears are great fun to watch, as I did in this instance,
But I know they are wild, so I do keep my distance,
Bears may lumber along - I'm not fooled by their gait,
They run faster than me, I don't ever tempt fate!

The Bald Eagle
by Helen George

Soaring above, on the currents he rides,
Watching for prey as he silently glides,
To watch him from yonder is such a delight,
As he cruises on high, resplendent in flight.

His beak is sharp, his eyesight keen,
With wings tilted down, he slowly careens,
Drifting aloft in an azure-blue sky,
In fluid motion, he passes on by.

A joy to behold whether flying or still,
A creature of God, his majesty thrills,
With freedom and joy may he always abide,
America's emblem of honor and pride.

http://www.usa-patriotism.com/poems/ppt/american_eagle.htm

The Stag
by Helen George

At the top of the hill, he stands all alone
Majestic and regal, a king on his throne.

Surveying his realm, alert and aware,
His breath a wisp in the cool mountain air.

Nearby stands the doe that he's courted and won,
And there in the brush lies his new born son.

Someday, this little fawn will roam proud and free,
Like his father, the stag, he will aspire to be.

Wild Horses
by Helen George

Out on the prairie the wild horses roam,
Majestic and gallant, so wondrously free,
Alert and aware, they paw the wild grass,
Awesome and gentle, a marvel to see.

Ears peaked, nostrils flared, a new scent in the air,
From out of nowhere a rogue does appear,
Silent and wary, the lead stallion takes care,
Snorting and rearing, can't let him get near.

The rogue is fearful, but he makes a stand,
The lead stallion chases, ready to fight,
He nips the hindquarters of the haughty upstart,
With bravado gone, the rogue takes flight.

The lead stallion triumphantly returns to his mares,
For now, at least, he remains the best,
But it's only a matter of time, this he knows,
Til his reign is usurped and he loses the quest.