Man takes photo of a robin;

Wife is horrified, mouth open.

What explains her silent fear?

A reoccurring nightmare,

Or that unremitting terror,

The unexpected spelling error, 

Where robin turns to Rodin,

Courtesy of Hitchcock-san?


Another for the list:

Spouse is ornithologist?

The lower atmosphere

Come a bit too near?

The robin wants the combo sandwich

That I've cut to bits, and which,

Although the bird is wary,

Admittedly is not too scary.


Perhaps the woman's shaken

By my bold display of bacon;

Or she holds unspoken

Grudges against my coke and

Rum; I've heard it said

People are annoyed by bread.

I suppose it's not unheard

To be incensed by a bird.


But, then again, could it be

That the problem's really me,

And the reason for her frown 

Is that I simply write it down;

Or she's coming to suspect

That it's she who's incorrect,

And the momentary scowl she's chosen

Will end up permanently frozen:


The many-flavored human face,

Capable of so much grace,

Here pre-verbal, red, and round,

Without exculpatory sound,

With its myriad excuses,

Here devoid of any uses, 

And which can only be referred

To the answerable bird.


September 11th - 12th, 2003