there’s a chubby little robin in the tree outside my window
his gray feet are grasping to the maple’s brittle branches
bare and brittle and worn down from the cold
the branches sway from the weight of their visitor
but the robin doesn’t fly away to find a stronger perch
his talons just hold tighter though the sky around him spins
i look from my desk
from my office
from my world
where I too feel like I’m swaying
in a place too harsh for me
and I learn from this robin with his bold orange chest
and his cheerful yellow beak
and his wise dark eyes
it is good to be patient
when the world around you is frozen
you shouldn’t always fly away
to find a stronger perch
poems.
