the robin, part 2

the robin looks me over,
decides that I am not a cat,
and continues her soggy slog
in search of this morning's feast;
the wind continues to come up
from the west,
maybe a good sailing day
after all, or maybe a day meant
to just sit, and think,
and digest recent times;
some grey days are simply
just for that:
no particular fires
that need poking,
or making,
or putting out --
just watching,
absorbing --
the days that memory
stores up
for later drama.

May 17, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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