Contributed by Nan Potts
The birds of the night, with chucks and woos
With gentle sighs or staunch “who-who”s,
Are heard to call for mate or food
In the evening hours, a taunting mood.
Though “Night” may lay upon the land,
Midnight sun strikes up an avian band.
The early chirping chickadees,
‘Tis Alaska’s summer melodies.
A symphony of calls ensues,
Nightingales, Owl and Moorhen moos.
Their daily Sun Salutations springs
Long before my alarm clock rings.
