I feel foolish, <br /> like those silly robins jumping on the ditch boughs <br /> when I run by them. <br /> Those robins do not have the grand style of the red tailed hawk, <br /> no design, no dream, just robins acting stupid. <br />They've never smoked cigarettes, drank whiskey, consumed drugs <br />as I have. <br /> In their mindless <br /> fluttering about <br /> filled with nonsense, <br /> they tell me how they <br /> love the Great Spirit, <br /> scold me not to be self-pitying, <br /> to open my life <br /> and make this day a bough on a tree <br /> leaning over infinity, where eternity flows forward <br /> and with day the river runs <br /> carrying all that falls in it. <br /> Be happy Jimmy, they chirp, <br /> Jimmy, be silly, make this day a tree <br /> leaning over the river eternity <br /> and fuss about in its branches.<br /><br />Jimmy Santiago Baca<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-day-23/
