Little Robin

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Little robin in the woodlands,
little robin on the ground.
Little robin hopping gently—
what is that you have found?
Are you pecking at a June bug?
Is it for your offspring’s lunch?
Did the red worms at breakfast
not last them long enough?
Little robin, little robin,
how I love to hear your call.
I will miss you, little robin,
in the winter and the fall.

© 2013 Freeda Baker Nichols

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9 comments on “Little Robin

  1. spunkonastick says:

    Nice! My husband still wonders why they don’t eat birdseed and I’ve told him – they are carnivores.

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  2. Very sweet poem. I love the birds of spring and summer:)

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  3. dotlatjohn says:

    I couldn’t see where to click for my comments today! I loved the poem. My mother always called them “Robin Redbreasts.” I shared it on Facebook. I want to do that for my blogging friends from time to time as you have done for me. As always, I like your photography. Do you have a camera with a long lense?

    When do you go to the doctor? Donna assured me there are few stairs at the cabin. You can sleep on the first floor or Gene can bring you and fetch you back home if that’s more comfortable. I hope you can come to our mini retreat!

    Love you,

    DJ

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  4. The rhythm of the poem has you picturing the Robin just hopping around …

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