MUSED
BellaOnline Literary Review
 by

Poetry


Robinīs Nest

Lee Evans

One dull afternoon
I dozed in my chair,
My face before
The window where

I’d peered through blinds
At the robin’s nest
Made of mud and twigs
And lined with grass.

And the bird was there,
When I shut my eyes
In a torpid swoon
With a yielding sigh.

But when I woke,
The nest was torn
From the spruce’s branch
Where it was moored.

The blue green eggs
Lay on the ground
Shattered and dry,
No robin around.

More than this I rue,
More than this I weep:
Times I should have watched,
Times I fell asleep.

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