Saturday, January 24, 2015


By Beatrice M. Hanson

Like true birds they’re flying
Down the Southern way,

Watching for the road-signs,
Resting for that day.

Each mile will bring them closer,
To the sun they love.
Like birds of a feather winging
The same route up above.
The change of air gives promise,
Of warm days ahead,
The breeze is softly stirring up,
Salt air from the ocean bed.

Throw off the woolen sweaters,
Relax and saunter forth!
To let the bright, golden sun,
Shine on the cold motorists

From the North.