Box poem:
Bird house, a home
A little wooden bird house, smells
of fresh cut wood, sitting on a
pole, just made yesterday
no one come to look.
That new morning a blue bird
like a sapphire in the sky singing
comes by to look, the bird house
hopes for a friend,
the bird tells the bird house,
I'll be back soon
The bird flies away,
the bird house is lonely,
the bird comes back with another
by its side,
the bird makes a nest,