Week of Apr 24, 2017

Baby Robins

Tiny bits of camouflage fluff
with tiny yawping contrast mouths
in a feathered bowl of twigs and grass
in a branch-crook of a white pine
needle-covered, near a bedroom window
in a house overlooking.

On a cold day in April
warmed by a broad feathered red breast
incessantly fed by both parents
protected, nurtured, and nourished
to someday…

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2012

From Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine

Back to Home →

Share this poem

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.