Robins in January

Against the puny frost of winter's clime
The cat benignly waits upon the Nelsons' mat,
Not cold, but cowed by raucous swarm
Of birds demented, flying blind
From Pyracantha hedge to Toyon wild,
Eschewing sober meals of insects plain:
Fermented berries muddle our poor Robin's brain.

For once the feline eye does fail to charm
These drugged and shameless stunting birds:
Their nobler instincts gone astray
They swoop and cry like banshees
Loosed upon the cul-de-sac, this saintly Place,
Our leased home, their captures space;
For when they dive like fighter planes,
They drop their blood-red berries where they may
And once again out mother Nature does her dance
With robins turned to bacchanal
And gardens sown by happenstance.

[Undated poem by Virginia McKinnon Mann. Undated, but I suspect it was written in January. Under the title was the legend, "for Corinne and Lyle Nelson of San Rafael Place".]

Fear Of Things Falling In

Grandfather was never sure

That the bathtub was meant

To hold so much water:

He stood outside the door

And listened to the stream

Pouring in and

When it did not stop

Called out to visiting Cousin Jim,

"Don't put all that water in;

The floor might give way:

You could fall right through!"

Cousin Jim was slightly hard of

Hearing and let the water freely flow

While Papa fumed outside the door

And cursed the inside lock

And inventions such as bathtubs

While Cousin Jim enjoyed his bath

Not knowing Papa's fear

Of things falling in was deep as the well

And old as sin.

[Poem by Virginia McKinnon Mann; dated January, 1995. This is one of my favorites (along with "The Joy of Poetry Book"), because it is both comical and poignant. I left the line in the last stanza that she crossed out because it heightens that duochrome mood (to mix my metaphors atrociously).]