Preamble
This poem was inspired by the numerous parties and gatherings at my parent’s house over the many years they lived there.
And the hope that in the future, we’ll remember all the good times we shared with them, fondly and with love, and that we may also see our own robins, to comfort us.
And for those friends and neighbours living close by, who weren’t always invited to some “family only” events, I apologise now for all the noise you must have had to put up with and hope we are forgiven!
The Two Robins
The noisy laughter of a family gathered in a garden.
Food chosen, plates clacked by forks,
wine glasses plonked loudly onto the metal of a patio table.
A youngster sighs, as a grown-up tells a tale that is funny,
but then deemed “not appropriate”.
This brings more laughter.
High above,
a bright blue sky is slashed by contrails,
that then dissipate and slowly drift into whispers.
Watching are two robins.
With good intent,
music is selected and shared amongst an audience,
that (mostly) keep their disapproval to themselves.
On the brickwork of the house,
baked faint by the sun and wind,
are chalk marks scoring games now done.
A flapping kerfuffle, a shriek,
and a chair is flung back.
“It’s only a bee”, says the husband, gently.
Watching are two robins.
Something sporty is on the telly.
Left on, but no longer being watched,
a ghost of a game.
In a corner of the garden,
Sisters on their knees, casually remove some weeds,
as they share their secret words.
Trying to look interested,
a cornered soul is having life-minutes wasted,
by another’s lightweight trivia.
Watching are two robins.
The usual suspect, with wine flushed cheeks,
lights some blue touch paper with a mention of politics.
Then retreats with a grin, to watch the ensuing squabble.
The offer of coffee perks up those wined out.
“Do you have any decaff tea?”
Then a hurried search for soy milk and some Earl Grey.
The day’s blue is now bruised by dusk,
and bare and rosy limbs seek warmth,
under knits and throws.
Watching are two robins.
Hints via vigorous tidying,
And “Are you done with that drink?”
don’t seem to register with everyone, that it’s time to go home.
Eventually, just the family remain.
Some hugs, some thanks,
And “We must do this again soon”.
Then, one of the boys,
(who you’d least expect it from,)
says “This day was not the same without Grandma and Granddad.”
Watching are two robins.
