Ottava rima — Graw, aw, um, mmm, hums through the neighborhood.
Old mower growls while chopping up the place.
Tap, tap, woodpeckers dig decaying wood,
From it seems one half of those limbs they grace
then cheep, cheep, cheep, cute chicks try to be good.
A chirp, a chirp, a chirp, a trill that fills the space.
Grows…