The afternoon sun opens the day
wiping the morning mist from the sky.
A robin sits on a mossy wall
overlooking the glistening valley,
basking its little chest.
I speak to it,
words gentle, soft and kind.
It looks at me,
a gaze curious, yet knowing,
seeming quiet at its best.
Suddenly, with a song
it takes to the sky,
where old memories lie,
before its ancestors sang,
the caged bird's song.

Will the star
show up on my way?
Take a shot in the dark
I can't promise
to the firefly.

The moon will
morph to the sea
in the dark
swing and sway.

The robin doesn't need
to sing to the tuberose
that doesn't delay
blossoms on the way!

this same robin
has visited
every day
for the past week
watching
as I work
curiosity
fearlessness
bringing him
closer
and closer
enough for me
to identify
the glowing colour
of his breast
the ruffled feathers
of his crown
and his gentle
inquisitive conversation
as he inspects
the freshly turned soil

i respond
to his chatter
knowing
   not caring
that neither
   understands
      the other;
there is something
in his presence
that outweighs
the need
for answers

Watching the snow fall
Touching the pavement, pelting the wall,
Melts time and time again, and call and call

On windy hilltops soft in the flow
Brighter and brighter, the streetlamps glow,
The robin orange-red breast on show.

You woke me up each morning with your chirps
I know you only disappeared
You'd never willingly leave
For it’s been two years
But really, where did you go, small birdie
You've left me waiting everyday by my window, in tears
You used to flaunt your red chest and smile to me
Now all I see is your plate filled with food, yet no sight of you
Will I see you anytime soon?
You were there with me from summer on a hot mid-June
You stayed through spring and Autumn  
Even through winter, you still made sure to pay me a visit when due
Did Corona catch you?
Are you gone? I'm still watching out for you every morning
You've left me mourning
I'm expecting the worst, I'm hurting
You used to come by every day by my window
It’s been a month, in which I haven't seen you though
I'm worried sick, my head's a groan
How will I sleep?
How will I wake up without your singing in my ears?

-Yara AL-Raheme

robin’s-egg blue walls
contain two empty shells—
one lamp on, one lamp off
four eyes open
both minds closed

where are you?
where are you?
I see you
I see you

hello stranger
hello you
yes I feed you
yes I feed you

little wire feet
little sharp beak
looking straight at me
born to fly
born to be free