The day before Christmas, the lifeless body of a robin
lay, supine, among clods of frozen dirt
in the bare, raised bed of our vegetable garden.
His breast, striated with not-quite crimson plumage—
plump, yet breathless, lay still, where only weeks ago
plump crimson tomatoes prospered, awaited harvesting.
I cradled his body in my hand, resting in the folds
of a plastic bag that, just yesterday, held apples,
tied it tight before consigning it to a barrel caching autumn leaves.
That night we sipped champagne, feted birth,
celebrated promises fulfilled again each day,
awaited the coming of light that would dispel the darkness.
What a beautiful write.. the robin just like all living thing will come to an end…
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A sigh for the poor robin…. and a clink to your glass, Happy New Year!
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The circle of life, a lovely write.
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The circle of life that will forever continue. I’m glad you cradled him Vick. Wishes for a happy and fulfilling 2015.
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I love the poem, but cringe at the thought of the millennia it will take that plastic bag to disappear.
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[…] Source: Beginnings and Endings […]
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there is always such a tug between life and death… promises of the Father are so sweet… nice write
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Life in all its manifestations – the garden, the robin, the years end – a lovely and quiet poem, Victoria. Hope that 2015 holds many joys for you and yours. K
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I like that idea of beginnings coming from an ending somewhere. Hope you had a great Christmas Victoria, best wishes for 2015.
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Yikes! The disposable and the indisposable changing places.
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Beautiful & sad, ringing with truth; a touching piece for all of us as 2015 readies itself to begin.
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