The Last Robin Sings

Robin calling song
from the melting days of march
when spring was a mere promise
upon the breath of the earth
and faith trusted the world would thaw
a single voice raised
in the darkness before the dawn
harbinger, sign, and symbol
building to a resounding chorus
of countless courting voices
caroling the song
of the eternal recurrence
that warmth, and life, and love

now, in the fading days of summer
warmth slowly, inexorably
seeping from the earth
time has run out
to nest, to brood, to hatch, to fledge
too late to raise another clutch
the cherished song of spring
on this unheralded morning
that no one observes

a far cry
the first robin of spring
the last robin of summer
sings his last song
that is known only
by its absence
the deafening chorus
now silenced
tomorrow’s dawn
will have no voice
to proclaim its glory
the transmigration begins
as that thing with feathers
soon flies to warmer
and more heavenly climes

* * *

picture at top from:

18 thoughts on “The Last Robin Sings

  1. Wow great capture! I’m not quick enough I think! I love the sweetest in your poem! I have this mockingbird that sings every morning when I go out to watch the sunrise! I’ve tried several times to photograph her but she flies away so I think she’s there to sing while I watch! Birds are funny to me! I think the Robin was posing for you!

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