but my travels these days are, shall we say, “urban”
not calibrated to bring me near red-breasted plumbers.
into the concert intent on finding the reason
doors stood open and welcoming.
joined an “impromptu” rendition of, “Happy birthday!”
and after “L’Olimpaide” and “Rhosymedre,” left, applauding.
Still – I plead that my preference is not that of a bigot –
I’d trade the buzz of a “cultured fly” in a flash
for the chirp of an ordinary Robin