spring’s herald

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