Rooks cawed,
over apples sliced and stored,
while nothing else stirred the air.
The day: Had a certain mystery and magic,
sleeping under a blanket of lazy grey.
Oaks, standing statuesque
shaded us like enormous brollies
from a mugging heat.
A single robin landed nearby and stared,
no one spoke,
there was no need,
and the robin gave a piping tune.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a sweet moment in time, nice description.