Poetry Collection.

"The Robin Spoke Again."

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She sat so lovely on the windowsill,
eyes closed to the wind,
her feathers a breeze of mellow meadows
and a sweetness between her beak

I woke before the mist of dawn,
the floorboards a moan beneath
bare feet,
and watched the robin
who did nothing but
sit in the wind.

Tenderly I opened the window,
shivered in the northern cold,
and asked the robin
what she thought.

you think too much,
she whispered
into the stillness.

you think, and forget to feel.

I feel too much,
I said.

And she said,
live it.

The wind was but a frozen whisper
against my skin,
and I closed my eyes
to the golden sun.

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(June 2nd, 2024.)