Yesterday I was reading Sharon’s recounting of her travails with power outrages and sump pumps and glanced out a window to see a robin braving snow and wind. For some reason robins and red-winged blackbirds couldn’t wait to get back to Wisconsin and now they are facing the consequences. The early arrival of robins reminded me of a robin that spent a winter in Fairbanks where temperatures can reach 60 degrees below zero. I sent that story to Carol Wergin, the chair of my sculpture committee and she came back with this verse, which she remembers as a song but which Lynn remembers as a nursery rhyme.
And we shall have snow
And what will the robin do then?
He’ll sit in a barn
And keep himself warm
And tuck his head under his wing,