Roberta Hill Whiteman

(1947 / Oneida Nation of Wisconsin)

Morning Talk - Poem by Roberta Hill Whiteman

"Hi, guy," said I to a robin
perched on a pole in the middle
of the garden. Pink and yellow
firecracker zinnias, rough green
leaves of broccoli,
and deep red tomatoes on dying stems
frame his still presence.

"I've heard you're not
THE REAL ROBIN. Bird watchers have
agreed," I said."THE REAL ROBIN
lives in England. They claim
your are misnamed and that we ought
to call you ‘a red-breasted thrush'
because you are
indigenous."


Comments about Morning Talk by Roberta Hill Whiteman

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Wednesday, July 23, 2014



[Hata Bildir]