I’m watching flocks of robins outside my window pane
Gobbling up sun dried berries and shivering in the rain.
Their instinct says it’s time to leave as they fuel up for the trip
The branches swaying to and fro offering very little grip.
I love it when robins come each spring but hate it when they go
Their arrival means green grass and flowers, their departure foretells of snow
I wonder if they’re nervous about the arduous journey South
There’s an urgency about them as each berry finds each mouth.
The older birds will be out front, when to the skies they soar
Young ones wisely stay behind those who’ve been this way before.
I’d like to fly off with you, and leave all cares behind
To where it’s always summer, worms and berries easy finds.
But I’ll be right here waiting when you fly home once again
I’m the big guy in the window with a Kodak in his hand.
