Robin’s Song
A poem by Ken Gierke

Robin’s Song

Traces of a Robin’s Egg

In a time when a house well-kept,
children fed, loved, was enough.
When pilot and copilot were interchangeable.
Mates for life, but one will outlast the other.

Tenacious as any hawk, a robin
will cling to a branch in survival and song.
Passing the keys, contentment
as a passenger. Humility is not a weakness.

Even a clawed foot will stumble
on a close-looped carpet.
The final days are not always the finest.
Knowing that beginnings have endings.

Robin’s Song but a Memory

When the morning air vibrates
I hear a robin’s echo, the presence
of something that is gone.

Memories may fill a void,
but eggshells will not bring
an empty nest to life.

Though I may try to fill it,
there is nothing in absence.
The nest is truly empty.

Echoes

I consider the nest.
The egg. Neither would be,
if not for the robin.

A safe home. Birth.
Fostering, from the first twig
laid, to the egg just a memory.

Survival made possible
with lessons passed on,
echoes in a robin’s song.

About the Author:

Ken Gierke is retired and writes primarily in free verse and haiku. His poetry has been published or is forthcoming in print and online in such places as Poetry Breakfast, Ekphrastic Review, Amethyst Review, Silver Birch Press, Trailer Park Quarterly, Rusty Truck, The Gasconade Review, and River Dog Zine. His poetry collections, Glass Awash in 2022 and Heron Spirit in 2024, were published by Spartan Press.
His website: https://rivrvlogr.

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