Robin Redbreast Who Met Christ On The Cross Poem by john (called jack) wren

As I gently brushed aside
the outer coat of leaf
my eyes did rest most satisfied
on the pride of Spring beneath.

Lying in state were 4 eggs of white
in a moss covered nest
I held my breath at such a sight
it was to much for me to digest.

Upon a twig on a beech up high
sat a bird dressed in majestic grandeur
its berry red breast made me sigh
in exaltation at such splendour.

My thought's drifted to a Head of Thorn
and a weeping bleeding crest
which a bird kissed, and was reborn
as little Robin Redbreast.