Those dark eyes

I looked into her dark eyes in a way I never had before – they were so beautiful.  Why hadn’t I noticed?

Her rounded breast swelled and…she burst into song, because she (or maybe he, but I prefer to think she) was a Robin.

It was near the end of one of my regular walks at Stanwick Lakes and a Robin flew up from the path in front of me but instead of flying away, she (I insist, she) sat on a branch and looked at me. Our eyes definitely met – there was that little charge of electricity.  And then she burst into song. It would be tempting to think she was singing to me but since there was another Robin singing just down the track I think she was singing at (rather than to) them.

But if I believed that she was singing to me, how would I interpret the fact that she then stopped singing, defecated and flew away?


Photo: Philip Heron via wikimedia commons
Photo: Philip Heron via wikimedia commons
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2 Replies to “Those dark eyes”

  1. It's a strange thing to discuss I know, but if you were losing sight or hearing which would be preferable.
    This robin may have had dark eyes, but think about it; even is 'she' was the other side of a bush you would have stopped because of the song.
    Bird song makes a day, can raise spirits, remind one of places, and really is magical!
    But I also appreciate how difficult life would be if blind. I don' t know the answer........ But go and watch geese going to roost, listen to a nightingale, hear a blackbird before dawn, or the real sound of summer, the willow warbler: I suspect I know which way I would answer!
    PS - geese, the bit you remember is the sound!


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