Across the lawn, beyond
my gaze, my daughters’ voices
rise-and-falling, lilt-and-laughing,
while the robin in the dogwood
breaks a tiny tip of branch and flies away
then comes and breaks
again,
again, again,
his swoop so close, even
the thrumming of his wings
is in the breath that I exhale.

Jennifer L. Freed lives in Massachusetts, where she writes poetry, takes care of her family, and likes to play with clay, which she disguises as ceramic sculpture. She has taught ESL in China, the Czech Republic, and the U.S. This poem appears in her chapbook, These Hands Still Holding (Finishing Line Press, 2014). Please visit her website, Jfreed.weebly.com.