Robin

Robin

Surrounding myself with beauty, cushions me from some of life’s rougher moments.  When I was younger, I memorized poetry–a nickle a line (thank you, Mom).  Now, the words slip out of my mind like pearls from a box–rich and glowing–when life seems lifeless.

One of my favorites is Emily Dickinson’s piece below the fold.  The poem doesn’t explicitly name the bird and I reluctantly allow it could be a chickadee or some other little brown bird but she describes a robin’s actions so accurately (the one I photographed a few mornings ago could have been auditioning to play the leading role in her poem) that I see a robin.

_________________________________________________________

A Bird came down the Walk –
He did not know I saw –
He bit an Angleworm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,

And then he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass –
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass –

He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroad –
They looked like frightened Beads, I thought –
He stirred his Velvet Head

Like one in danger, Cautious,
I offered him a Crumb
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home –

Than Oars divide the Ocean,
Too silver for a seam –
Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon
Leap, plashless as they swim.

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4 Comments
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JoLyn
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14 years ago

Isn’t it amazing how lines can pop into our heads from long ago, still there for just the right moment? Thanks for sharing this…

JoLyn
Guest
14 years ago

Isn’t it amazing how lines can pop into our heads from long ago, still there for just the right moment? Thanks for sharing this…

Tj
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Tj
14 years ago

ohh wonderful.

Tj
Guest
Tj
14 years ago

ohh wonderful.