Hope is the thing with feathers


Motion on the front lawn caught my eye this morning. Robins! The first of the robins have arrived for their sunny winter vacation.

Robins are so much cooler than snowbirds. They don’t clog the roadways, restaurants, beaches and doctors offices. They don’t complain about property taxes. They don’t complain that the deli should do things they way they do up north. And they certainly don’t wear creepy speedos at the beach and lie in the sun until their hides are like tanned leather.

I adore robins (and Robin Hood). They rarely complain and always look happy. Whether they’re sitting on my gutter or my clothesline or skipping across my lawn. They’re  predictable and cheerful.

The Robin is the One
That speechless from her Nest
Submit that Home — and Certainty
And Sanctity, are best (Emily Dickinson)



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