"Flight of the Red Breasted Robin"

The Mountain Ash grove is always a fascinating spectacle in the fall…After watching for several days…recording the thoughts, mentally painting the picture for a sit down at the table, in the window with a pen and paper  tablet.   Today was the day for a 30 minute stream of natural consciousness in this narrative prose poem about a reoccurring seasonal fascination with the American Robin’s cycle of life…When I stop to ponder the irony, actually our circle of life is just as round…

 …a narrative prose poem by  © 2012 Harlon Rivers 

Hops and jumps are blurry motion across  the dewy meadow floor,

as the dawn brushes away the sandman’s magic

from the corner of sleepy eyes.

A sudden hazy yet abrupt stop…

A hasty, halting, motionless freeze,
Stillness, as if some final destination had been reached…
  

Neck stretched and craning,

Tilted with an eye to mother earth.

With a focus beyond interruption.

In the blink of an eye, 
In a motion too rapid to capture,

the nowness of motion, flashes.  

She stretches the earthworm with the grasp of subsistence

knowing after fall comes the long winter.

The morning sun illuminates the glow of the Native Maple’s

glorious orange and yellow color palette.  

A steady stream of activity rushes in and out

of the giant tree’s golden splendor.

Abundance perishes with the seasonal gardens decay. 

Mornings of blueberry and strawberry feasts

have left the red breasted robbers foraging

for the last rotting apples the deer have left behind.

Harbingers of spring…

  

Blueberry sneakers…

  

Gleaners of fall and winter..

“Teeek”  “tuk” “tuk” “Tseep” fills the overhead air

The flock returns repeatedly to and from the towering Maple

to the ripened cornucopia of berry clusters of the Mountain Ash.

The Robin’s flock ravage and gorge on the plentiful delights.

Soon the crimson berries fuel of flight will disappear

as if it were only an illusion of the passing seasons.

The pearl gray sky is an ominous backdrop for the fickle fleeting migrants.

Daylight fades as the flock disappears into a break in the clouds

of the ominous pending winter sky…

In the blink of an eye...life’s seasons transform

The stormy whirling winds of change

carry the golden leave’s splendor across the rolling vista.

The naked rooted scaffold’s branches stretch

across the sprawling tapestry of the wooded sanctuary.

Winter flocks of Thrush and Robins, arrive on a frosty new dawn

Red breast feathers puff with morning sun’s rays,

warming the tree tops leaning toward the southern sky.

Their journey here and now,
from distant mountainous horizons,

is part of this soul’s circle of life…

~Harlon Rivers October 23rd, 2012~