May you soon hear a robin 13-03-26
Inklings of spring begin to stir
through the chirps and twitter of a red tailed messenger
hidden amongst the dawn and bare-boned branches.
It sings like a soul that breathes into long dreamt things,
nurturing the pulses waking with the stirring streets,
kissing the sky with its sharp obsidian beak.
It carries pockets of sunlight beneath its wings
like the soft swaying promise of budding flowers
inching towards the evergreen.
Kept in the quiet quarters of the morning,
echoes of birdsong scatter and return; they rise,
yearning for the warmth of the climbing light,
opening the Earth petal by petal
until the world unfolds into a pathway to spring.
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