Lord Robin of the Lemon Lime Grass
Popping out from under time's ruffled sun
a regally vested, chit-chatty Robin.
Cheerily navigating the lemon lime grass.
Perhaps looking for a beetle or crumb.
He daintily hip-hopped into my ring
on legs of beige twigs and lute strings.
Gently tilting a Tiffany-kissed beak.
Offering a daisy chain of silvery peeps.
I thought him just another avian busker
hustling up a mate and something to eat.
I'd little to offer and vigorously apologized.
He just glanced toward his robin egg sky.
Then offered me, in pastels, a Basho haiku.
I volleyed back with crayon-streaked senryu.
Before gliding off to sweet memory land,
he gifted an orange gem from his regal vest.
I considered this day to be impeccably blessed
by Lord Robin of the lemon-lime grass.
A True Story
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