Where do robins go when summer’s here
and blackbirds fill the hedge with song?
Only when the wind strips bare the trees
and scatters gold upon the ground beneath,
when earth and sky are damp and dark
and the long winter night descends
do bare trees fruit again with feather-red
and robin hurls his sweet triumphant song
against the howling voice of arctic winds.
His fragile courage saving summer’s notes
reminds the cooling heart that spring will come again.
a haze of misty greys
filled with shooting stars
of blazing leaves
and the pure clear beauty
of the robin’s song.