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Writer's pictureAlistair Appleton

The Robin

I was sitting on the edge of the garden, watching the clouds darken then lighten then darken and across the sky, I saw words spelling out anxiety the soil become foreign. distant below my feet I drifted away from the smell of the approaching rain and rotting leaves I became elsewhere.

in that solitary kingdom, things arrange within the wise economy of fear, the world is stable and orderly. the glass windows become opaque and misty, cotton padding closes up the sounding doors but in that swaddled simplicity safety proceeds.

then there was a robin red hearted and stubborn I was sitting on the edge of the garden, watching the clouds darken then lighten then darken and across the sky, I saw words spelling out anxiety the soil become foreign. distant below my feet I drifted away from the smell of the approaching rain and rotting leaves I became elsewhere.

in that solitary kingdom, things arrange within the wise economy of fear, the world is stable and orderly. the glass windows become opaque and misty, cotton padding closes up the sounding doors but in that swaddled simplicity safety proceeds.

then there was a robin red hearted and stubborn looking at me like a victim.

poor thing it said, in its minor key, what’s the matter with you then? what matter matters when all is safe?

the note was like a stake a falling plate against glass. my eardrums punctuated their safety dance with listening.

across the field, there was music from a car. the earth smells leapt and raindrops fell.

I looked askance at Master Robin and, far across the plain, the safety pane shattered to the grass.

I’d love to know your thoughts about the Robin. Drop me a message with any thoughts, comments, questions, queries or insights that pop up while reading the blog. I’d love to hear from you!

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