To a Corpulent Robin

Divinity to mates and envy of his fellows,
he flits about the mulched ground,
pickily pecking at its lack of geometry.

O partial sphere of autumn red,
what thoughts abound within your
tiny mind?

Are you arrogant, inflated with the pride
over your apparent sensuality?

Are you some drunk lover, intoxicated
from your wealth of satisfaction?

Perhaps you, consumed in gentle joviality,
simply live to enjoy the day, and are carefree.

Naturally, you remain silent,
and I, discontented.