Spring’s feathered herald
pecks furtively at the frozen’d ground
urging worms far nestled below
who refuse to venture out
and greet the bitter rain.
His red-dulled breast
heavy-drenched
with water disguised as ice.
II
She found last night
among the howling winds
that her chickling
had become an egg once more
curled into a downy, frail ball
yet no more warm
now more silent than ever.
III
Two quivering robins
huddle over their branch-bare nest
their warbles lost in the pelting hail
not a peep escapes from their hatchlings.
2012
intotheindigo 
You’re welcome. 🙂
life is fragile no matter creature or human. Mournfully sad, beautifully written J.
Thank you Elle.
You’re welcome. 🙂
You show Spring in all its beauty but also the impatially of nature. You portray the life and death struggle eloquently and make us weep while rejoicing.
You portray the harsher aspects in all three poems above. For me, the second and third are especially sorrowful – the fraility of life