This spring I envy the robins
And the way they talk such joy in eating worms
It makes me think of pasta at my father's favorite Italian restaurant
They eat worms like they're claiming springtime
As something that belongs to them
I have a red button down I wear when I want to remember what it's like to be in love
But it's not aerodynamic enough that I can fly in it
And when hawks fly overhead and my friends hide in the bushes
And call their two-toned danger alarm
I leave my red chest and my worm behind
And hide and know that this wait will be over soon.
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