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!