Tara Teeling


Watchful Robins - Poem by Tara Teeling

The robins adorn the leafless tree
like copper-chested jewels,
keeping close watch,
waiting for sleepless gestures.

Songs cut through
the chill in the air,
slicing it neatly,
right down the middle,
so that both sides fall onto
the grass, wetting it,
dousing the dead with the cold
which had worked to preserve it,
but will instead, wake it.

This world is in a coma,
but there is the slight movement
of living fingers, and
the quick flutter of the robin’s wings
which hint at a heart that beats softly
below the thawing crust of earth.

It is when the clouds part,
and the light floods in
that the eyes have cracked open,
and the birds take flight.


Comments about Watchful Robins by Tara Teeling

  • (10/1/2008 9:04:00 PM)


    It isn't spring until the first robin sings.Very observent freeform poem.I could really see and hear the robins bobbing along.I await spring, too.A ten from me. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, April 12, 2008

Poem Edited: Saturday, April 12, 2008


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