ROBIN’S DISCREPANCY

ROBIN’S DISCREPANCY

I held him in my Hostage Hands –
He yielded to my weak Demands –
He settled in a cotton cell –
Recovered in a cardboard shell.

The Robin is the Bard – the Bead.
His eye – a prayer to intercede.
Upon the ground a wild cat creeps –
Beneath the earth a Robin sleeps.

The Robin is the Poem, I said.
These not my words, but his instead.
I only listen and record
The funeral of a wounded bird.

(2 April 2008, Pleasant Grove, Utah)