A simple, short and sober poem about a robin that is the tamest bird we have in our garden. He sits by the window waiting for the huge beasts to get off the feeders or the squirrels to get out of the way.
This was written early December 2018. Hopefully, bird lovers will recognise what I’m trying to say even if poetry lovers might regard it as a bit of a Christmas Card.
Reflections on a Robin
Beyond kitchen window the robin perches
Among the red-brown wintery leaves
Alert and still, for food he searches
While below him a scurrying squirrel thieves
The scraps thrown down for any passing bird
His branch by the wall against the west wind lurches
Grinding sounds from the tree are heard
The cold and damp have invaded the grass
Only greys and greens will grace this day
The vegetation waits for winter to pass
As paunchy pigeons waddle their way
The brightest sight is that breast of brown-red
For the rain-filled clouds hide the sun, alas
The robin bobs his humble head
Then, suddenly, he flies beyond our sight
Maybe to the shelter of another’s home
A place, perhaps, where might’s less right
Or where his mate and fledglings roam
From wherever he returns, be it east or west
By lightest day or dimmest light
Welcome awaits that red-brown breast