Nine fat Robins twitter in the tree
Wait! there are five… Now three
Soon seven red breasts perch and preen
Each one as regal as a queen.
I watch the party, aching to meet and greet
I watch and wonder, what’s the news on my street?
But soon they all fly away, every one
In a flurry of wings; their party is done.
I am left behind with just a memory and a sigh
I perch in my seat and try not to cry
But when I close my eyes, it is feathers I see
A soaring dream of flight… Robins’ gift to me.