It is not with Dickinsons’ sense of dread I greet you
But with the luck bestowed upon my dreary head
(So say those from Quebec anyway)
When I spotted the first Robin on our lawn last week
Now almost daily this
Turdus migratorius, large Thrush, wanderer
Unaware of Latin leanings
Perches on our sill to look at us.
Cautious & curious outside & in
Even dog has noticed your red breast
Pressed against window you stand taller than I knew
You were. At least 12 inches high, they say
Your average life is two years but one was known to have lived 14.
What was his secret I wonder?
Curiosity? Not likely.
Socialized & outgoing after all
It’s years were tallied
Every morning now I wait inside
For this plumed voyeur
Warmed beneath the same bright star
Carried by the same swift breeze.
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