A Robin

I wait for you to fly from the fence
Before I toss the ball for the dog.
I want to see how long you'll stay.

Your plumage is unspectacular and
You build your nest among my everyday wanderings.
No remote eyrie for your offspring,
But a solid cot in the patch of mugwort, 
Or the old fort, 
Or above the kitchen door.
I can reach it without standing on my toes.
You don't appear to be lazy, though you are still there, on the fence, 
Making your assessment of the middle of the yard.

I want to meet you 
And talk about the diligent work of feeding the young.
And maybe, once we get to know each other a little better, 
I'll ask how you feel about being the harbinger of spring.

* Image by Stanbalik https://pixabay.com/users/stanbalik-10257964/