Our pal in the garden

Quiet days in the garden
Often we may find
We have a small visitor
Who helps us to unwind
Offering an assured ness
Attesting to a way
Of ascertaining spirit
At the back end of the day

A little feathered creature
Brandishing it’s breast
Coloured by the food it eats
Oh yes I do not jest
It pursues its kind of justice
With a melancholic air
And a dose of lateral thinking
In which it tends to share

A certainty of knowledge
A reliability
A song bird voicing beauty
Which it shares now constantly
Authoritative though calming
A tiny little soul
equivalent to a table spoon of water
And it’s role
In the general scheme of things
It wants to console

Us with its fleeting wisdom
It’s heart is beating fast
Every single second
Six beats I hear is cast
Compared to us one beat only
Our friendly Robin, she
Certainly runs at a different speed
Which is her necessity

Warriors in tiny bodies
Defending territorial rights
Unquestionable tenacity
It gets into small fights
With its moral certainty
Everywhere it goes
A watcher in our garden
Into every flower that grows

Loving the leaf litter
For in its dampness lies
A myriad of creatures
Which the Robin doth surprise
The beetles and the spiders
Earth worms too maybe
But also loves the berries
And the soft fruits comfortingly

A songster melancholic
Singing everyday
Early in the morning
And at dusk too
Everyday
Singing through the Winters
Unlike the blackbird who
Resonates with peace and quiet
Which apparently is true

Robins have a sub song
Seemingly they confirm
They are singing for their supper
That extra juicy worm
Thanking the almighty
For providing the fair
They come to watch us gardeners
Who just happen to be there

And warble perhaps to comfort
Watch our every move
They have a very reflective tone
Kind of in the groove
And where they choose
To construct their nests
Is purposeful and weird
In old kettles and cast off boots
Hanging baskets where
They can redesign their cups
Of feathers and soft hair.