To A Red Red Robin (Poetry)

The first tea of the day brewing
and you’re out there somewhere —
waiting in a tree
the february sunlight warming
winter’s twigs swaying in light breeze.

I’m at the open window spooning
a mix of wild bird food
as far as I can reach
along the sill
when suddenly you land beside me
and we both freeze — eye to eye
uncertainly
                        until
you judge it safe — select a piece
of processed worm-like fat
swallow it and stare
as though to test how I react
but I remain quite frozen there

while you help yourself again —
grab a second fat pink prize
for free
then, your mission done, fly off
and leave me smiling
                                bold cock robin
while I drink my morning tea.