The Robin

I tried to write a poem today ,

I tried to make it rhyme,

I tried to get the meaning right

But every single time

I thought I’d got the hang of it,

I thought I’d got it right,

I found I couldn’t think of a word

To rhyme with bird

Or, that is, robin.

I didn’t want to say

I saw a robin.

It was bobbing

Along and sobbing.

Because it wasn’t.

So I started again.

Once, last winter, in the snow,

I was out in the garden

At the bird table,

When I turned round

And saw on the path beside me

A robin.

It was so close

I could have touched it.

It took my breath away.

I have never forgotten

The red of it

And the white snow falling.

(June Crebbin)