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Earl Shallenberger

The Haried Harbingers

Just beyond my kitchen window
there's a young pussy-willow tree.
On a balmy, spring-like 3rd of March,
it bloomed enchantingly.
Oh! I was SO excited!
what lovely softness each bloom discloses!
Then, WHAM! Old Man Winter returned!
And nipped their downy noses!
For two full weeks they suffered
in that frightful wintry weather.
Through ice and snow and freezing gales
they huddled close together.
'First thing every morning,
I shared their struggle for survival -
And FINALLY a beautiful, balmy day;
it HAD to be Spring's revival!
The ground was still white with snow,
and covered with an icy sheet.
But balmy breeze and beaming sun
Surely heraded Winter's defeat.
Then a big Robin Redbreast landed
and hopped right beneath the tree.
He looked around - up and down -
then chirped loud - AND pompously!
He said, Okay buds! Stop loafing around!
We GOTTA harbing Spring!
Youse guys check tulips and daffodils! -
And I'll supervise everything!
But the moment his loud chirping ended,
the temperature droppped to zero.
The buds all groaned as the bird flew away,
HE's nuttier than NERO!
Two weeks later, on April the 3rd,
We were still getting wintry storms.
That pompous Robin still puttered around,
Chipping ice for frozen worms.
The Buds cried, Red, you EVEN boss the sparrows!
So YOU stay away form here!
You got ALL of us out in this WHOLE mess,
'Cause you came TOO early this year!
Well, my pussy-willows are doing fine,
I'm pleased to report today!
They're all cuddly-soft and fluffy,
With little, white caps on top of the gray.
And there's not 'hide nor hair' of Sir Robin.
I guess he's still in disgrace . . .
But I wonder why our alley cat
Has that satisfied smile on his face? . . .