A rare descent

entry picture

Sitting on the apple tree
Purloining space and time
A wee robin redbreast
Doing what a robin does
Pecking as it ruffles its feathers
Scattering rain drops all around
The robin expects nothing, except luck

The luck of the draw
Predominates. The cock Robin
Has a hen Robin and sings with glee

Even in the soaking rain
Such sights and sounds change me

Nothing is as iridescent as this robin
He doesnt need snow or glitter
Just some worms with a death wish
And some unfrozen water, in a dish

No burning bush
Or parting of the sky
Just a slight cock Robin passing by
As he prepares for spring
Singing into the deadening, leadening sky

And never asking why.

◄ The dying of the light

Winter Blue ►

Comments

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John Marks

Thu 13th Dec 2018 09:20

Thanks Kate. They are that. I try to notice such things, not always successfully! John

<Deleted User> (19913)

Wed 12th Dec 2018 22:26

Beautiful John. Birds are such great fodder for poems.

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