A rare descent
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
The cock Robin
Has a hen Robin and sings to her with glee.
Even in the soaking rain
Such sights and sounds astound me.
Nothing is as iridescent as this robin
He doesnt need snow and he doesnt need glitter
He is the baby-sitter. He just needs some worms with a lonely death wish
And some unfrozen water, in a dish
No burning bush
No parting of the sky
Just a slight cock Robin passing me by
As he prepares for spring
Singing into the deadening, leadening sky
And never-ever asking why.