Away With Worry: The Sparrow And The Robin
Angela Black's poem expresses a deep appreciation of Nature as it is.
Snow covers the lawn, I clear the path and put out crumbs for the birds
crumbs casually crushed or crumbled in a circle of shapes and sizes
The birds, precariously perched on ice-feathered fronds, slippery branch
And insubstantial white-puffed hedge, hungrily eye the prizes.
The furtive sparrow, with coward's aggresive bold swift strike
A flutter of nerved-up purpose, sneaks to plunder, then rises
A beak-crammed thief with largest lump of loot from furthest edge
In evasive flight from imagined enemy, is benefactor, recognises
Only thrill of fear and foray as he greedily chokes
On his crusty crumb.
Meanwhile the robin, in a series of swerves and delicate tentative hops
Comes near, shy but trustful. His head, this way and that, minds me
With intense enquiring eye, but he knows me and comes as my guest
For when I forget him he bobs at my window and taps to remind me
So now, gratefully entertained, he accepts the gift at my feet
Daintily discriminating, leisurely choosing and relishing, he finds me
His friend, his satisfied hunger a bond between us, a kind of love.
And they are both as they are, just as my robin captives and lines me
With trust, so I cannot blame the sparrow for his theivish lust.
