A Robin, puffed up against the cold
Hurries past my window toward
The lone patch of exposed grass
While juncos and sparrow,
Sturdy little ones they are
Contentedly feast on seed
Thrown out onto the frozen snow

I want to tell it "Go back, silly bird,"
The worms are all napping, frozen solid
And will be for some time to come
"Go back South" I'd say,
But I don't speak "robin"
And it doesn't speak "human"
So my pity will have to suffice.