Poems by Dale Nichols
The Return of the Sandhill Cranes
Against a crisp blue sky
Where the sun and the wind have arisen
I harken their voice in the distance
Tiny specks I just barely envision
Legions in v-formations
Parading from wing to wing
Back at last from fall migrations
As harbingers of spring
Loudly and proudly they trumpet
Their long-awaited return
Majestically they circle in search
Of rest and new nests they have earned
A truly spectacular sight
Midst the strains of their joyful refrain
Hopping and squawking, commanding the stage
The return of the sandhill cranes
Frogs in a Bog
I call them my little no-see-ums
Ever heard but never seen
They emerge from standing waters
In the spring before it’s green
Like little camouflaged
crickets
I look for them from atop
Until I venture too close
And their music magically stops
A cacophony of chatter
Is my chorus of peeping frogs
Loudly out looking for love
As they court and cavort in the bog