Choices
a sonnet
A sudden robin on a head-high post
Has caught the focus of my eye and brain
So shards of tree-seeds now like weightless glass
Become invisible, light feathered rain.
So fixed on that white circle round its eye,
On almost-black its head, near-brown its wing,
The heaving life around it disappears,
As funnel-sight allows only one thing.
A flash of wings with some huge shadow cast
Goes by: it might have been a hawk and prey,
Or those two…