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.
By Eric Schoonover
Gloucester Harbor, 1894. Childe Hassam (1859-1935)
When they put up the signs NO PUBLIC TOILETS
I’ll know. And when the daffodils bloom in
front of the bank on Rogers and the gulls
fight and flutter over the chimneys, I’ll know.
When the sailing team yanks their amazing 420s through
the wretched gusts in the harbor; and when the
night thermometer reads 38 and it’s rain and rain,
then I’ll know it’s spring in Gloucester . . . maybe.
Eric Schoonover is a writer who does enjoy Gloucester’s spring. Eric is also a boatbuilder and watercolorist, who lives in Gloucester in a small 1735 Cape Ann cottage with his wife, also a writer. He is the author of the award-winning The Gloucester Suite and Other Poems and a novel, Flowers of the Sea. His latest book, Telling Tales, has just been published.