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Ode To The Robin ©

Gordon Fjaelberg
Bridgend, Wales
2005

Blazing-crested winter friend,
Strutting demeanoured, proud;
Through golden Summer's twilight end,
Through white enfolding shroud.

In balmy times the red-breast darts
Close to the gardener's toil;
Snatching morsels, stealing hearts,
In the wake of turning soil.

For you, no Southerly yonder
At October's biting ways;
Go, lesser creatures, wander,
Share you not our worst of days.

Embrace us and enhance us,
Through good times and the ill,
Cock-robin, so cock-sure;
To see you is my thrill.



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