After sipping icy water spiced by moss-crowned leaves,
the robin flies from the birdbath to the fence-top for a meeting
with the squirrel. When they arrive, they find the sun
already waiting at the spot. Welcome to my secret hideaway, says he.
I’m surprised you found it. Then the clouds move, and the sun,
the robin, and the squirrel disappear. And here we find the poet,
not quite ready, in their absence, to look away.
.
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Categories: Sweet Sleep and Bare Feet
Tags: An Unknown Poet, Birdbaths, Clouds, Cold, Ice, Leaves, Morning, Moss, Poems, Poetry, Robins, Simplicity, Squirrels, Sun, Tea Time, Water, Winter
William Michaelian 
Quite a captivating scene. There’s so much to grasp from nature. 🙂
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She is a kind teacher and a steady friend. A perfect playmate, too.
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Always good to find the poet.
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Yes, well, you know how poets are. Unavoidable in any case.
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Im Einklang mit der Natur zu sein ist mit das höchste Geschenk. Und daraus Poetisches zu gebären, ist die Krönung.
Liebe Grüße, Edith
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Yes, and it is all part of recognizing, and being grateful for, our good fortune. Thank you, Edith.
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