The leaves are falling from the sycamore
Outside my window,
Collecting vastly beneath my pickup parked just across the street.
There once was a nest of robins that perched upon those mighty branches,
Then came a powerful gust of wind that knocked it down next to a pack of hounds.
They of course decimated the entire clutch,
And when the mother returned and landed on the now empty branch,
She dived beak down towards her nest.
Never once did her wings open before hitting the ground.
My neighbor came by next morning with an old cardboard shoe box,
It held a carcass and some cracked eggs.
I dug a hole about two feet deep near the birdbath I'd no longer need,
And placed a few pumpkin seeds above the shoe box and covered them up.
I water the patch every so often,
And the hounds howl when near the tree.
This morning I awoke to the sound of chirping,
Outside my window there stood a robin
Holding a pumpkin seed between its bill.
Spring is near, but first comes winter.
I hope, but that's really all I can do,
All there is to do,
Hope.