Common, trilling the spring — they bring you
beauty from the branch, every branch, the green
and the bare, they are never far from you.
They lighten your heart, these common birds,
charm away the pain from the open door
and the war, a heart broken between two shores.
Raise your eyes from your weighty grief
and you will see the robins. If still
your gaze is anchored down, you’ll hear them
if you’re sleeping or blind, you’ll hear them
charm away the pain from the open door
and your heart, and the rift between two shores —
White Cat Grove 