Poetry

Spy

Dawn comes, crisp yet quiet.

Leaves stir on its breath and rise up to land on the window ledge,

locked tight

like the rest of the house.

A robin spies an insect on one of the leaves,

and flutters over to snatch it.

Its beady eyes meet large, pale ones

through the cold glass,

hungry and wild at seeing a creature move about so easily.

The robin is unconcerned, considering only

that its momentary distraction has now cost it its meal.

Poetry

Robin Redbreast

The robin, whose beak

wild berry juice does adorn,

flits about merrily on this morn.

 

His curious bright eyes,

black as obsidian,

observe all life in the garden.

 

Stray too close and he won’t stay.

Up, up, but not far away.

 

His sweet chirps still will sound;

watch for his vibrant red breast

as he dances merrily around.