A Round of Robins

by Eric Schoonover

The snow from the last of the storms
melts into rivers that run down
the steps and a round of robins
jump and flutter ahead of me

in the evening’s blue snow. Six
of them, or maybe more, hop then
flutter, but the failing light won’t
tell me gender. They lead my way,

up those fifty-seven steps, to a
warmer time when snow drops
rouse and hopes enlarge to
greet a spring of warmth and light.

NOTE: There is no agreed upon collective noun
for robins: there are at least fifteen candidates, but
a round of robins seems to be the favorite.

Eric Schoonover is a writer living in Gloucester.
“fifty-seven steps” alludes to the staircase
leading from Spring St. up to Winchester Ct.