||[Jan. 11th, 2015|08:12 pm]
All day a robin was hanging out in my back yard. I first saw it about eleven o'clock in the morning, and last about half past four in the afternoon. Once one of the feral cats was looking at it intently, but she made no move to catch it. The robin was about ten feet from her, getting a drink from the water bowl under the bare lilac bush. When the bird flew into the walnut tree the cat, who had looked as though hypnotized, came to me and rubbed against my leg, then ate a few bites of dry cat food from her bowl. Then she returned to the front yard. It made me wonder if perhaps robins have some special power over cats. I don't recall ever having seen robin feathers lying about the yard, though the cats have caught jays and pigeons and even a few woodpeckers. |
But the main thing I wondered was what was a robin doing here in January? I also wondered why it spent so much of the day in my yard. I don't suppose I'll ever find an answer to either question. It's a mild winter so far, but not so mild that a robin should hanging about. And if I were a bird I don't think I'd chose this yard as a place to linger hour after hour. Whatever the bird's reasons for being here, I did enjoy seeing it each time I went out. It added something to the dull winter landscape. I wonder if I'll see it again tomorrow? I do hope it has a sheltered place to sleep as the night grows chill.
My Gypsy Life (A Fantasy)
by Arthur Rimbaud
With fists in ragged pockets, off I went —
My topcoat too on its way to ideal.
I traveled under skies, muse, your vassal!
Oh! look now! what sumptuous loves I dreamt!
My only trousers were hugely holey,
— And a dreamy Tom Thumb I, seeding rhymes there
Along my way: — I stayed at the Big Bear.
The stars above rustled softly for me,
And I heard them, sitting roadside
In the fine September twilight,
Felt dewdrops on my face like heady wine;
Where amid fantastic shadows I'd rhyme,
While plucking at the laces like a harp,
On my battered shoes, one foot near my heart!