The Robin Poem by Mohabeer Beeharry

I wake up to a gleaming carpet of snow
In my back garden and a cold shiver runs down my neck.
Yet enthralled, my heart fights to feast
On the rich and flaky white canopy.
I stroll my eyes around.
The camellia, darker in the cold embrace,
Laden with more than its fair share,
Objects openly and gives a discontent shake
As a brisk breeze swoops down on it.
My heart warms up.
Life has not all come to a stop, I think.
For lo! There is a brisk movement
On the top of the frozen pansies.
Undaunted, a little robin is busily pecking,
Skipping, strutting as it challenges a mound of snow.
It stops suddenly and peers down.
All frenzied, legs apart and wings wide open,
It begins to drill, deeper and deeper.
Victorious, it brings out the tiny morsel of a wriggly worm.
Oh man, what dance follows!
As if hearing my thoughts, it jumps up
And lands near my window, on a rose stem.
And sings, a gentle metallic sound:
I wonder how big is this world.
In shine and shower I dig for grubs.
But I am terrified at night though,
In my nest dangling at the top of a bush
When the wind blows and shakes.
And I cry in the morning
When I see my young ones dead on the ground.
In this small body,
There is a big heart that loves and desires love.
We are all the same, big or small, see?
Cry not for me, for I know what life is.
There is the flower and there is the thorn,
He is wise who lives happily with both.