Now, regular readers will know that I love the villanelle poetic form almost as much as I love robins...
Once, when I woke one Christmas Day and was feeling sorry for myself as I’d be spending the first Christmas on my own since my partner died, I heard the sweetest sound. When I pulled back the curtains, it was to find a fat robin singing its heart out on my windowsill, its red breast bursting with a pride and joy that touched me as no other birdsong has before or since. Unperturbed by my presence behind the glass, the bird I still think of as ‘my’ robin did not instantly fly off, but stayed as if to treat me to the performance of a lifetime.
This poem is a villanelle.
A ROBIN’S TAKE ON WINTER
Among stoic evergreen, a robin’s peeping,
singing in answer to a snowman’s call;
world weeping, Earth Mother but sleeping
Hungry winter days, a fine harvest reaping
of summer’s illusions autumn let pile;
among stoic evergreen, a robin’s peeping
If Heaven. its duty watch, faithfully keeping,
why do its tears freeze even as they fall?
World weeping, Earth Mother but sleeping
Bleak though the landscape, albinos leaping
like children grabbing time to be playful;
among stoic evergreen, a robin’s peeping,
Where a silvery twilight stealthily creeping,
interlopers quick to grab its treasure haul,
world weeping, Earth Mother but sleeping
As sand in a hourglass relentlessly seeping
via cracks in some amateur’s crystal ball,
among stoic evergreen, a robin’s peeping;
world weeping, Earth Mother but sleeping
Copyright R. N. Taber 2011
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