Migrating south they go,

Even the black crow.

Wings flapping,

With the rain tapping tapping tapping.

Away from somberful snow,

Into warmth they go.

Through the fluffy clouds,

And past the large crowds.

Past the vast fields,

Their feathers act as shields.

All aligned together,

Birds of a feather.

Past the murky waters,

Filled with adorable otters.

Flying above the trees,

Away from the frigid breeze.

To a place with immeasurable warmth,

On and on they go forth.