the robins are still here
hoppin’ on the ground
perchin’ high above
in the bare branches
of winter’s naked trees
a cold wind blows
temperatures are droppin’
silly birds
fly somewhere warm
go now
while the gettin’ is good
December 13, 2012
I wonder as I wander,
“When will the robins fly away?”
it is early December now
yet I still see them here
perched in treetops
hopping in the grass
singing a trilling song
“For how much longer?”
cold is lingering
wind is whipping
winter is coming
soon
Dear Robin Red Breast,
You must go now,
so you can return,
and be a sign of spring renewal.
I hope you hear me when I say,
Hurry back, so I can greet you, when you come again, with a smile brightly shining.
I’ll sigh a sigh of springtime,
when temperatures begin to warm,
when winter’s wind gentles to a balmy breeze,
then I’ll whisper, “The robins are back. Spring is here.”
But now, now it’s time to go.
Please.
Love,
Janean
December 9, 2012
wearing sandals
toe nails painted blue
greenest of grass
dog named Blue
guarding yard
from robin invasion
Friday afternoon
Spring break has begun
And as if I weren’t tired enough, next thing I know the dog takes off through the backyard after something. A robin most likely. Because he’d chewed through the damn leash. Again. Second one. There won’t be a third. At least not this same brand. Grrrrrrr. That’d be me. Not the dog. He says, “Woof! Woof! Woof!” I’m the only one growling tonight.
sing your song
with a tweet, tweet, tweet
and may it be
sweet, sweet, sweet
pleasing to the eyes and ears
as you share your heart
without any fears
sing your song
like the peaceful dove
coo, coo, coo
trilling from a perch above
sing your song
like the robin true
chirp, chirp, chirp
a sign of spring anew
sing like a cardinal male
so bold and strong
with a lighthearted lilt
to your song
try not to be a crow
CAW, CAW, CAW
from the treetops
about all YOU know
sing your song
like the smallest sparrow
peep, peep, peep
perched on wire narrow
sing your song
alongside birds of a feather
as you find one another
and sing together
My paternal grandmother was an avid bird watcher. My grandfather her ever faithful chauffeur. She kept her eyes peeled for first time sightings as she traveled the world. She also savored the visits from feathered friends to the feeders she kept filled at home. I notice the birds and their songs more, now that I’m spending so much time outdoors with the puppy. I’m thankful for that time spent under the sky above. It’s thinking time. Pondering time. Drink in the world time. Puppy playtime too. Recently there were five robins a bit surprised when Blue barreled around the corner, into his yard, and woofed them over to the neighbors.
Turquoise Tangles 