Migration

Migration

I’ll miss them when they’re gone,
the robins
who awaken me each morning
barking and gurgling
as they feast
on the ripe red berries.

They’ll stay
until they’ve finished
tidying the shrubs,
these avian gardeners,
whose recompense
is the fruit of their labors.

Then one day
the morning will be silent,
the leaves will be still,
the yard will be empty;
all of the birds – and the berries –
will have disappeared.

No sad farewells,
no looking back,
only forward flight
to the next sun-warmed garden,
filled with riches,
dispensing joy.

Deborah Beach Giordano
© January 10, 2010

About inklingscommunity

I am a struggling Christian, committed pacifist, near-obsessive recycler, incurable animal lover, inveterate tree-hugger; a nature mystic, a socialized introvert, an advocate for the vulnerable, an opponent of exploiters.
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