Opportunists

My brother came with his tractor last night and plowed up our vegetable spot. Not 10 minutes later, a dozen birds showed up to gather the upturned worms. Hmm. How did they know?

Here is my feeble attempt at a poem:

Opportunists

Is it the grind of the tractor

That alerts the suitors,

Or a perk aroma

Only birds can tell,

Of worms up-heaved

With fresh-plowed soil;

An awakening sound?

An arousing smell?

Either or not

The lover-birds come

To capture the prize

And please the brides