Picture Window
My friends, the robins, have returned again,
perhaps confused by nature’s trickery.
They dance in pairs with snowflakes, then
roost in the frosty limbs of nearby trees.
How I miss your calls on dreary winter days;
the cheerful warble of each voice upon voice.
Bright flash of orange-red so well betrays
you have come by accident and not by choice.
So go my friends, this is no time for you.
Fly off to warmer, gentler climes than these.
As sure as Spring returns so shall you
again to chatter and flit in old fir trees.
Farewell my fragile friends, our time is ever brief,
stolen by solemn winter, the cold and heartless thief.
-Brent Nice, 01/24/2009
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