As The Robin Decides Not to Fly

The bellow of November's uproar
has not yet settled on the landscape.

Instead we relax in the foggy golden light
without friction except the swish of leaves
under our feet.

The invitation to sing
and dance in this shuffle of crispness
chirps on as thrifty as a robin gathering
close to her friends who have decided not to depart
for this winter.

She will stay in the comfort of the snows
under the branches of cedar
and among the holly.

She will stay north
to see the light fade
like her red breast bleached
by the white and frozen skies
making it nearly impossible
to fly.