Little Robin

I will spread forth my hands
whistle, call out her name
may she lift her wings
fly far ‘til she finds my open palm

she’s a beautiful little thing
with her delicate red face
and her tan and grey cape
I wonder if her feet are cold

I am overcome with the urge
to wrap myself around her
fingertips tenderly caressing her softness
blow warm air into her feathers

her beak is tiny but I know
she is an expert catching spiders
and nipping berries away
her sharp wit and clever tactics

peering into her shining eye
I see myself reflected there
I don’t want to release her again
yet I know she’s not mine to hold forever

I will cherish her
for as long as she allows me to hold her
even far beyond this moment
for she entrances me

spread your wings, dance away
but later please come back to me
won’t you little robin?
bless me with your wintery presence

tara caribou | ©2020

David over at Incidental Naturalist posted this little woodland robin on his Instagram account and I was so mesmerized by the pretty little thing that I immediately scratched out a few lines. I’ve always liked robins. They are so cute and such excellent hunters. I can’t say how many hours I’ve sat and watched them.

Read this and more in my poetry book, Four.

13 thoughts on “Little Robin

  1. I had a goldfinch land on my finger once. He’d flown into a store and was trying to find his way out. I raised up my hand and he landed on my finger and I walked him outside and he flew away. It was both bizarre and amazing.

    Liked by 1 person

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