A Robin's TheophanyMature

The sky turns

a little more dark

a few more thoughts

trickle down

like leaves in the gutter

Somewhere else

is not different

I will still be hit by the same stars,

and that brick of clay in your head,

will still be yours

wherever you go

as soon as the clouds pass by

theophany in a robin

large red chest and mouth full of dirt, pecking, pecking


sits on a wooden fence nearby

eyes me with caution

pivots and stares

for a few brief seconds

leaves a blotched white splatter on the rocky path

and flies


"Was I here, once?"

it seemed to ask

of course,

disprove my theories as soon as come to them

nature has infinite lessons

if one cares to learn

an epiphany in birdshit

and I've never felt better

The End

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