Sitting in an apple tree,
Purloining space and time,
A wee robin redbreast
Viewed from behind.
Doing what a robin does best:
Pecking, as it ruffles, as it sings;
Scattering rain drops all around
The robin expects nothing
from this frozen ground.

Even in the soaking rain
Such sights and sounds astound me.
Nothing is as iridescent as this robin
He doesnt need snow, and he doesnt need glitter,
He is often the baby-sitter..
He just needs some worms 
Some unfrozen water, a mate.

No burning bush
No parting of the sky
Just a slight cock Robin passing by
As he prepares for spring
Singing into the high leadening sky
And never-ever asking why.