The Robin Redbreast landed well
Upon my garden tree,
Upon a twig, he stayed a spell,
Contented, fancy-free...
And in that moment, I saw peace,
As it was meant to be,
To know that little bird at ease
Upon my property...
I smiled to see that tiny soul,
Though it was cold outside,
Because he had such self-control,
Humility not pride...
Without a trace of 'I am great,
That cannot be denied! ',
But wisdom that accepts its fate
And serves well as a guide...
I couldn't say that he looked young
Or whether he was old,
Nor by the hearing of his song
If he felt frail or bold...
I only know, with faith reborn,
Each truth that I behold,
When I was blessed that Sunday morn,
With joys worth more than gold...
Denis Martindale, copyright February 2016.
A poem based on a magnificent wildlife painting,
by artist Stephen Gayford. Google-search
gayfordgallery and 'Stephen Gayford poetry'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem