Michael North
Holly Berry Robins
They approach in waves,
Dropping wings, twigs, everywhere,
To strip the awaiting tree, a mistress,
Each year, on time, at breakfast,
Like the forward moving clock,
Capturing the red caffeine filled
Berries that would kill a human,
Downing them in a wired frenzy,
Drinking them as though It were a St. Patrick's night.
If only they could see this delight,
From the local pub,
This is a true morning drunk,
Excluding the hangovers.
© Michael North
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