My Robin Poem by Jim Coleman

I hear you sing:

suppressed as if in church.

A kind of childish sniggering.

I spot you on a branch.

and say 'Hello! ' to catch your eye.

You go on tittering, ignoring mine.

.

Our tree is where our two worlds meet.

Your singing is for some other bird,

I like to think you sing for me.

I talk to you. You cock your head.

It seems to me you understand.

Your russet breast is for an avian eye

but incidentally impresses mine.

.

I dig to rid myself of weeds

which offers you a chance I don't intend.

My dull eye sees just upturned mud,

but your keen eye sees nourishment.

You drop down by my boots

and dart and stop and eye me warily,

and briskly conjure little worms from clods.

and stack them neatly in your beak.

.

We were not born to interact.

and can live apart quite satisfactorily,

but your garden just so happens to be mine,

and for a moment we come face-to-face

and share this little time and space.