Gershon Wolf Poet Rhyme

Not Yet Mr Robin

Mr. Robin arrived on Spring's early Tide
Of mid-March born to a chill wind born

From his wing dropped a feather
Foretelling milder weather
  Yet those slants of ice in the air
  Hunger pangs, mealtime's prayers

'Twere no whistles of mirth
'Twere no worms in the Earth
  No gentle rains to nurture the ground to give birth
  To shoots of bright blossoms or soft-pedaled roses
  Nor even a hint of green-tinged garden-hoses
 
All still lay bare, brown, hard as a rock
"The Earth be not ready!"
Quoth her biological clock-- 

When through the heart of Mr. Robin
Hurtled Winter's last gasp
  A glistening icicle
  In the shape of an asp

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Maureen McGreavy Pigeon Tart March 20, 2018 at 12:10 PM Love this! The robins no longer migrate where I am, I wonder how they manage. Wonderful penning Gershon, rapt by your imagery. xomo Maureen McGreavy Pigeon Tart March 20, 2018 at 12:37 PM they're harder to see, but they're there :) I live for spring! Gershon Wolf March 20, 2018 at 12:18 PM Gosh, thanks, Maureen! Potent praise coming from a poet (you) whose poetry I admire so...And you know what, I've yet to see a robing this March in Chicago. Hmmm...C'mon Spring! Giddyap! Best wishes, :) gw