I'm So Sorry, Mr. Robin

I was standing at the kitchen sink when the movement of your flock in my cotoneasters caught my eye. I stopped peeling the carrot I was preparing for my lunch to admire you and your friends. You seem to love the rich red berries that color the bare branches and I was thinking how glad I was to host your party.

I don't know what startled you into flying off, or why you of all your friends chose to fly toward the house rather than out into the yard. As my eyes followed your friends it was my peripheral vision that caught your movement toward the sun room's glass -- too late to warn you. If only I'd moved, or just flung out my hands, but I was too late and you hit the glass before I'd even turned my head. I didn't even see you fall. I just stood there stunned.

Bigun looked at me, frightened at the noise you'd made hitting the window and together we hurried to look down, just in time to scare away the crow that had already swooped down and taken the first peck. My appearance at the window startled him and as I looked down at your huddled brown mass I wondered -- was it my appearance in the kitchen window that startled you and your friends?

I am so sorry, Mr. Robin. I didn't mean to cause you any pain. I hope you died before you fell, and your soul went on through to the other side. I hope rather than accompanying the remains you are flying in the warm sunlight, soon to alight at the feet of God.

Fly free, Mr. Robin, fly free.