Adult Male Robins
Artwork by Hal Dittbrenner

Cold Robins

by: Laurel Eve

You’ve come for spring

It does not greet you.

Dappled coats, downy feathers,

We huddle against the wind.

I’m sorry, cold robins.

I can return to heated walls.

Your nests, are they the same?

I don’t think so.

It’s not your fault,

Sweet heralds of spring.

Red bellies, tulip blooms,

So it would be

If we did not destroy it.

So we tuck our necks in cradling gray

Together, worlds apart, a few feet away.

Laurel Eve is a queer creative writer and self-proclaimed tree hugger. Ever since they were a child, they’ve loved turning over stones in the back garden to stare at the root systems of the grass and poke at the bugs that live in the soil. They dream of a house full of too many plants, cats, and books to imagine, full of friends and family to share it with. Laurel hopes their writing can bring readers to find beauty and appreciation in small moments of nature, and raise awareness for environmental concerns that need to be addressed.