Sir Robin

February 28th, 2015 by Magdalena Tabor

Fat, round, harbingersir robin
Of Hope,
Startled at the absence
Of anything verdant,
Suspiciously eyeing
The quilted conundrum
At my throat –
As if I could sing.
But here,
My lovely golden orb,
An utterance of delight
Caught between the breath
Of winter
And the gloved hand
To my lips,
At what you might choose
To bring.

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