Tardy robin in an orange tree, waiting for snowflakes
making sure winter has come to Illinois.
It holds a noble head up to the wind, sensing the
change, but I wonder why it is so late, so alone.
A squirrel runs back and forth, up and down the
yellow tree next to Mr. Robin's perch. With pieces
of pumpkin in its mouth, the squirrel scurries up the
rough bark, stops, eats, and runs back to the
welcoming porch below. Someone feeds it
on a regular basis, as it knows the territory.
Finally, the robin moves out, perhaps south,
perhaps to another orange tree somewhere
in this peaceful suburb. Autumn ends early
this year and white snow interrupts this idyll of
orange and yellow.
