deepundergroundpoetry.com

Crumbs for Robin

 
Easter on its way
Passion gone except for Bach,
feuds compete with fugues,
cardboard boxes foil and ribbon.
myths and legend now discarded;
next Thursday same as any other,
Friday shopping; Churches closed at three
Easter bonnets, mum for tea
potato shoots and frosts.
A blackbird sings at five
his nest somewhere on the ivy,
his love, with Easter eggs. . . . asleep.
Spring will do its best
to compensate for winter,
fogotten. . . now the clock's gone-on,
The round begins again as always
of that there was no doubt;
evenings in the garden. . . .
oil the swing and mower
clinking glasses with your friends,
leaving crumbs for Robin.
Written by Kexby (john rickell)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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