When ducks arrive in the city
it may be under duress, and all
unprepared for city tastes
or city etiquette;
These have not each been asked for their consideration.
When artists commute from the countryside
complaining of meagre result,
rural simplicity, spotty esteem;
neither (perhaps) have those been petitioned for preference.
When the lone scribe returns to his country
under foreign decree-To rebuild,
to replace some walls and re-make what was;
Little as well might he/she relish that opportunity.
Not a poem-about the robin
One lonely robin waits dissolution of snowfall
as we anticipate another political season.
In winter they assemble in large flocks at night,
in Canada no doubt,
but here with civic vest, with civil etiquette
the robin has a regular welcome won upon our level greens.
Other dinosaur descendants must flit, yet, and hop
from our right-of-way
(as lesser mammals fled in turn at the tramp of raptors)
but she need not scurry at all.
Might I predict a day-
scenting the dry and balmy breezes of a summer afternoon,
tired of its subterranean toil,
when one overly lugubrious earthworm,
wishing but to take in a little sun
amid a forest of close-kept American grasses,
shall find itself, too late, as a trophy;
fodder to the new iteration of robin.
Why is it that sportsmen employ
the robin as mascot so seldom
unless it is inappropriate
to limit a living myth so..?
The Solitary Starling
The solitary starling passed me on my left
hurriedly searching for a twilight roost;
else a recent convert to Americanism,
he/she changed now, aligned with human values,
separate from its flock
yet indistinguishable from the rest.