Robin Song

the last of leaves have fluttered down
a dying carpet covers ground
where once the scented flowers grew

yet there on naked branches stirs
the twitching of a little bird
its stature small its being felt

it sings its winter song for me
perched high atop its melody
a nest is found within my heart

i listen to those soulful notes
that chirp forth from a tiny throat
that carry on the early air

a living creature how it lifts
the joy of nature brings a gift
this morning has a sunshine start

Reviews

[Lara]

Indeed!
Joy comes on wings 🪽

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you dear Lara. On a dull, cold morning, our avian friends give us wings too. Greetings from the UK.

Chris

[Lara]

Absolutely, Chris. And greater we are for them. ✨️ Without which, not laughter nor lament might draw a mist to the eye at all