A robin sang for me this morning

A robin sang for me this morning

In branches hidden by leaves

I did not search for the singing bird

For searching quenches the quiet mind

And I would disturb the rapture of its song

I did not wonder where the voice comes from

Or the generations that made the bird

Or think of its beak that shapes the sound

But I walked down the wood

With the bird singing

Adding a smile to the leafy branches