| Commentary and Philosophy Poetry posted September 19, 2009 |
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A Birthday Tribute for Margaret Snowdon
robins
by adewpearl
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A robin flying through the wood alit on branch and there it stood to glimpse with gratitude the view and sing a hymn to day anew. It warbled praise of tarn and fell with fluted voice that cast a spell upon the wood still moist with dew, and then, refreshed, away it flew. But long since time its notes went still and silence filled the air, not trill, I've stayed beneath the spell it cast with song of splendor unsurpassed. |
 Recognized |
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Happy Birthday, Margaret, nature's poet and my favorite songster.
Margaret often writes of the English countryside, of the fells, or hills, and the tarns, or small mountain lakes. And while she writes of many birds, her beloved robins are closest to her heart, I believe. Three quatrains cannot begin to express the beauty I have found in her poetry or thank her for the warmth of her friendship, but this humble offering will have to do.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Margaret often writes of the English countryside, of the fells, or hills, and the tarns, or small mountain lakes. And while she writes of many birds, her beloved robins are closest to her heart, I believe. Three quatrains cannot begin to express the beauty I have found in her poetry or thank her for the warmth of her friendship, but this humble offering will have to do.
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