A poem

Yesterday on my way to Job Number Two,
as I piled myself, my coat, and other things I thought I'd need that evening into my car,
in between settling everything into the appropriate seats and adjusting my own,
just as I was about to shut my door, push into gear, and roar off down the road -

I heard a robin singing.

I couldn't see him (or her),
but guessed she was perched in the honeysuckle tree
out behind the garage.
Or maybe, if it was a he, he had settled himself
on the much-more-manly-woodpile.
Wherever, he (or she) must have seen me,
rushed, hurrying, harried,
And done the one thing that could make me pause,
still,
listening,
and enjoy the sweet moment I was present in.

As the clock silently admonished me to hurry,
and my car's impatient idle intensified
I succumbed to the mechanical and closed my door,
backing down the driveway and away from the song.
I tried to focus on the road in front of me
and all that I had still to do.
But my mind replayed that sweet robin's calling -
looped it
through my thoughts
and around my feelings
until I couldn't but do what the music invited,
and smiled at this,
the first sign
of spring.