Poetry Corner


Photo by Claire Schwartz, courtesy of unsplash
There's a Robin in my kitchen
 And he doesn't want to leave
 Circling calmly around the room,
 But I need time to grieve.

 There's a Robin in the bedroom 
 Does he want to be my guest?
 Onto bookcase and tops of heads,
 He seems to want to nest.

 There's a Robin on the feeder,
 Through ferns of frost I see 
 Pom-pom bouncing branch to branch
 Staking territory with feathered glee.

 There's a Robin in the meadow,
 Nocturnal soloist in darkest night
 Sing your song, as notes fade to dark
 but burn bright, with breast alight.

 Stealing fire from the cold earth
 To make constellations shine
 be free my friend, fly onward,
 For you were never mine.

Suzanne Fairless-Aitken