Pastoral as Complaint

           The robin is so quarrelsome. He barks to no one in the trees;

he fluffs his body twice its size and rattles in the leaves.

           He doesn’t know or won’t accept the nest is empty now,

the eggs a tatter on the ground. The storm was quick,

we didn’t see it come; no sound above the hum

a summer morning makes when god is in his place

           and we are free of tragedies that pile up along the way.

The robin is so quarrelsome;

           he thinks his life is gone just like the nest,

but he’s like the rest of us, it’s only just begun.