A robin hops through mud
and dead grass while I wait
Blue sky hiccupping white clouds
Sunlight interrupted
Spring wrestles with last snow
In the shadows of the lodge
Somewhere along the minutes and hours
I lost
Lost the light and laughter
Pulled down by tiny barbs
Hooked through skin
The robin looks at me
Before hammering his beak
into the bare unfrozen ground
Searching for supper
Vine lost in the lattice work
Empty garden


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