Monday, April 23, 2012


May Lilies shine with
Wetness of night fallen
Rain drops still falling
From Spruce branches
High overhead where
Thrush song sings and
Rings in long sustained
Tones through the forest
While hidden among the
Underbrush with petite
Perky living and upright
Tail clinging to lower
Branches of Elderberries
A Winter Wren rejoices
To sing her morning 
Chorus with agility
Of voice and verse
Lifting a grey day
By such colors in song. 

~by David Robinson
Photo by Biopix: N Sloth

Monday, February 13, 2012


My soul, an empty birdfeeder,
Attracts no winged thing,
Without the seed among cedar,
The forest seldom sings.
On Sabbath morn come fill anew
This empty heart of mine;
With suet cakes and seeds to woo,
The feathered life divine.
“God’s little theologians”* come
To teach my soul your story;
No anxious cares within this home,
When filled with heaven’s glory.

*Martin Luther’s affectionate term for birds
D. Robinson 3.18.11