Migrating Birds

Every evening around seven
From my balcony at back,
I see a flock of little birds
Flying eastwards from the west;
They knew exactly where
they were going,
For their evening's rest.


From my balcony out front
I see a flock of bigger birds,
Flying east then turning south
In the sky over the sea;
Going into the clouds
they knew so well,
Where they want to be.