The Robin

The robin bop
bop, bops along
the stone path,
her beak digging
into the cracks
she passes,
looking for supper-

looking to fill
hungry bellies,
the little ones
in their nest
crying, crying
“Mother, please;
we’re dying.”

The robin bops
along, hurried,
and at wit’s end-
I reckon she regrets
ever lying with a man.

I kid, of course.
I know as well as she:
there’s nothing like
the love of a child-
it’s simply


I’m not participating in NaPoWriMo but I’d like to use the prompts as a kickstart for my Muse. Who knows? Maybe it’ll help get me out of this rut I’ve been in. This is a poem based on the prompt from week one: write a Kay Ryan-esque poem.