Oh, what delight to see
the rusted red breast of sir robin,
bouncing back
gloriously
through trees
and across lawns…
…if my eyes could hear
there would be
frisky melodies playing
there would be
an audience of flowers swaying,
praying grace and gratitude to the good Lord
for the safe return of spring’s bird,
whose presence alerts us all
the time has come
a joyous reunion under the sun.