Librarian of Spring

When the robin alights on the brown thatch
of last year’s grass, I stop scraping mud
and leaf litter from my boots and listen.

The pines cease their whispering and stand straighter.
The cat at the edge of the wood comes quivering
to attention.

The robin pins us all with his glossy black eye
saying without speaking: There is work to be done.

He is the implacable librarian of spring
briskly ordering the season,
unerringly plucking soft or chitinous pleasures
from the leaf-lined season’s shelves.

Open his breast and you will find a fire ablaze
in a clean stone hearth, and tall windows
flung open to the sun.
Wisdom lights the center of every cell.

All that must be done, will be done.

 


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Photo by Clark Young on Unsplash

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