The Audubon warblers keep the time of their coming,
Arriving on stillness of a storm,
Their breast and backs as dark as low bruised banks of cloud,
Rumps and throats as yellow as blooms of buckwheat.
They throng this evening in the newly-leaved
Tender-tipped canopies nervously weaving
Through the catkins like frantic prophets
So begins the wonderful poem by Kevin Cole. So, So, hopeful and lovely, looking toward spring through its first prophets, the Audubon warblers. The full poem is available at 146037 Audubon Warblers by Kevin Cole — American Life in Poetry