Josie Whitehead’s Poems
by Josie Whitehead
King of my garden, the robin, he
Who sings with joy from a branch of a tree.
The summer has gone and cold winds now blow,
But Robin sings on through the ice and the snow.
King of my garden, the robin, he
Who drives off the tits from the lilac tree.
The container is filled with the sweetest of seeds -
And it's here that the little birds gather to feed.
King of my garden, the frost's all around.
You're searching for worms in this cold frozen ground.
Where will you sleep, far away from the wind?
"Tucked up in your hedge, my head under my wing."
Copyright 2005