Robin in the late afternoon
The window’s open, so I hear
each crystal note. Even with eyes closed,
I know a robin when I hear one,
telling the air between us how happy he is
about the soft rain and its summons
to the worms in the dark underground.
A pause. And then he sings again
from a more distant branch, but just as clear.
Or is it his mate? No matter, it’s a robin song,
a shower for the heart. I am no worm.
I do not tunnel under sod. But I am called,
beckoned into fresh hopefulness.
Bless God for birds, their vowels
pure and persuasive as spring rain.
Luci Shaw 5-20-13
Where color is spare
Take These Words
God's Act in Acts
Comeback for snowy plover
Dancing in the Cathedral
The Possibilities of Clay
Sonnet for my left hip
The Golden Carp
What I Needed to Do
Mary Considers Her Situation
States of being
The longevity of roots
The Returns of Love
Photos from My Trip
The Songs of Camoapa
The Annunciatory Angel
Psalm for the January Thaw
The chair without distinction
The blue eyeball
Peace on earth
Robin in the Late Afternoon
Catch of the Day
All poems are copyrighted by Luci Shaw.
To be reprinted only by permission of the author.