The sentry stands alert upon the shed,
his puffed out silhouette proudly picked out by
the rising rays of the winter sun. Lifting
his beak, he expands his scarlet chest and shrills his fanfare. Branches straighten in response.
I often find myself watching our garden birds first thing as I look out of our kitchen windows.
(11.12.25)
He stood so still, I almost didn’t spot him.
Once, his coat was like the one your mother
bought you, saying you’ll grow into it;
he has. Its scruffy now, its tatty edges stretching, fresh orange feathers finally poking through.
Whilst manhood beckons, he has so much to learn.
He eyes me quizzically, wondering if I can
be trusted, if I am a threat. I’m not.
Decision made we stand there eye to eye,
two fellow creatures looking soul to soul.
I’m held until he breaks his gaze, and twitching,
skips into the shade of a nearby waiting bush.
We have a juvenile robin in our garden at the moment, with whom I exchanged a precious moment this morning.
(02.08.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Just like an overactive child, the robin
Twitches upon the empty feeder ring.
Surveying the ground below, he studiously bends
Before furiously fluffing his tail feathers.
Next moment he’s scrapping his beak across the metal,
Before swooping and scurrying across the ground.
Back and forth he travels, up and down,
Impatient, never standing still.
Spent dinner watching a young robin through our windows.
(17.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Valentina Curini on Unsplash
Ode for the Day 