Magpies

Weaving delicate music through the misty sky,

announcing the sunrise with a chorus of cries.

Observing a world of ever-changing troubles,

still a tiding of magpies will never crumble.

Muttering a language of musical notes,

society of nothing but trees and hopes.

Noisy sentinels hovering in branches,

perfect scavengers building up their mansions.

For the sky is the magpie's great domain,

even our daring buildings are their gain,

and the dashing land is their mighty throne,

and a thousand trees make up their home.

Though storms will usher them away.

Because their joy does not decay,

they will continue to cheer and sing,

as though the storms are not a thing.