This year’s nests

robin photoart and poem – ©2018 Laura Granby

“Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth,
   To some good angel leave the rest;
For Time will teach thee soon the truth,
  There are no birds in last year’s nest!” *

A robin is not just for Christmas
kitsch cards and rosy redbreast in sentimental snow
– this blooded bully with its matador caped chest
and eye, beady sharp as scissored beak
is salve for wakeful winter midnights
compulsive songster under urban neon lights
or moonlight when the earth is frozen blue

an Old World flycatcher following the fork
in Spring, worm grubber, collector
of caterpillar, beetle and mite
an eclectic palette that makes the gardener smile

this sometime shadow of a scarlet pimpernel
at the periphery or perched, bold bosomed, on the spade
silent as summer is long before the months of melancholy
mount the moulted throat and I hear in muttered sub song
how winter goeth even before the Fall
– but here is March and eggs, buff pink and specked
are already being warmed in this year’s nests

*”No hay pajaros en los nidos de antano”. Longfellow making much of an old Spanish proverb in: “It is not Always May
but for now it is the March equinox and the first day of Spring for Northern Hemispherers. And here’s a Robin on the wing in the Imaginary Garden’s Tuesday Platform!

 

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