Songbird

Robin hums as she tends her garden
while birds perch all around
waiting for rustling seeds
to fill the slender columns.
Humming birds hover near
to sip sweet nectar mixed for them alone.

On concert nights her voice takes flight.
and fills the hall with her radiant soul.
On quiet mornings
graphite joins with paper
and a flower's form and meaning
are captured by her vision.

A friend fallen ill or suffering loss
receives her gift of comfort words
and a card or meal soon follow.

Grandchildren rush to greet her
and happily fill her arms.
at night they cloak themselves
In love quilts made by Grandma’s hands.

If you want to learn how love abides
or long to know its fullness
follow my Robin for a day
Her gift is in the gifting.

July, 2006

by Robert Charles Howard

Comments (11)

Sometimes the words just work, , this is such a case On concert nights her voice takes flight. and fills the hall with her radiant soul. Brilliant* Love duncan X
Robert, notes of joy can never be a soliloquy. I thought that there were songs without words, but I think, after reading your poem, that every song will eventually have words. I want a poem read at my funeral to remember me by.
I've just read this again and so must comment again: Robin is wonderfully well-named! Your poetry inspires me; thank you for that. Esther : ]
Beautiful piece, through your words we have seen the admiration you hold for your songbird, thank you for seeing what most take for granted.
A very unique tribute to your beautiful songbird. Kindest regards, Sandra
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