A spring Robin, looking around,
red breast, sure, hop hop.
A look up, around, hop.
And towards the garden, centre,
wait, look.
Then it lifts its head as if for breath,
from a pool.
And looking as if a pendulum,
observing time.
Away then, with its crumb,
to the hedgeing safely.
Towards the berried shrub,
king of red berried bush,
red breasted robin
of pyrocanta, sing.
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