a memory suddenly re-born

 

A truth two decades ago:  following a whisky laden New Year's Eve, three of us went out on the first of the first - repeatedly muttering, 'Never, never again!' Encased in Scottish made socks an' boots bought from an Ullapool store, we slipped then paused as we tried to keep upright along the snow covered trail, our pounding heads ha-ha-hanging with pain.

A few minutes later, to the left of our prints, appeared a raucous red robin maybe - who knows, protecting his patch or song-singing Robbie Burn's 'auld  lang syne'.  He bibbed an' bobbed from midst the snowy veil of a hedgerow thick with white as  proud bravehearted defender of what he considered was 'all his'

Snow increasing. the little trickster-come-tracker flit and flew, stopping, starting - perhaps spying upon us, playing catch up as needed, surely to make us think he was on a secret mission to dispel thought of how own ceilidh's shivering beak: noisy proof that he too had imbibed a touch too much of holly wine or whatever had turned his wee chest florid red! 

Finally we reached the spot where peering down into a shallow gorge we'd usually see bushes, trees an' little else.  But.. hey!  wonder of wonders, at that very moment a wad of blush red snow slowly moved, displaying two deer, heads to one side - listening to the song of the mischievous robin  accompanying  frozen humans wandering for wandering's state.

The light, such as had been, lessened, we turned to look back  about a half mile gone.  There in the distance was our dad waving a flag - the blue and white saltire, urging us back into the warmth an' safety of our holiday home.  There where music an' singing had gone to sofa, floor or bed, where the first of January would be less a robin but - an ever-throbbing memory! 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I had a few night like this dear Emma. The cold night, searching for the unknown. I did like the tale. I liked your father waving you home. Thank you dear friend for sharing the amazing story in the poetry. I did enjoy.
Coyote

[emmajoygreen]

Many thanks for sharing that special memory, John

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome dear Emma.

[Pete]

a pleasant, warming, lightheaded, seasonal memory. i can hear the chirped song as i read and the prodigal ones returning home after having an unexpected communal, frozen moment in time. how can one not smile and be warmed by such a memory rebirthed ... :)

[emmajoygreen]

If I close my eyes and open my ears, can still remember that robin and the sight of the snow-flecked deer.. and the smell of the cold air.. and.. and.. the feel of the memory start to finish. thank you for understanding

[Richard🖌]

Ah, Dear Em 🥂

All too vividly, the relatability of New Year morns' consequences with too many an Auld Lang Syne of midnight cheer throbbing brewery brow painfully, flowing through. But, nothing's more curative than a brisk walk in Winter's pristine air and snow's sparkling crystal shroud upon the land … and, who could keep from smiling to a robin's beautifully spirited twitters.
More a short story than a poem, in your specially gifted way, you've so vividly and wondrously brought to life each sensation of the moment's ambiance, and how enthralling it is to share … I love how your pen can dance 'n glow.

Thank you, Em, for sharing your, er, fond(?), memories with us … Happy Christmas, with A Most Blessedly "Imbibing : )" New Year, Dear Poetess! 🎀 Richard

[emmajoygreen]

It amazes me how other writers feel this event, how special and magical it was, even though oh so cold. Not unlike the weather here and there these days, this year! Many thanks for your appreciation. Richard. Please forgive my late thankyou.

[Richard🖌]

A word or two from You, is always perfectly on time.

[emmajoygreen]

Thank you, sir

[Richard🖌]

Tip-a-my-hat, Lady Poet.

[Soren]

The robin reminded me of the trickster gods of mythology. Each seemed to have one. A fun memory.

[emmajoygreen]

So many creatures represent an emotion, can be good or bad, kind or evil. The robin's breast is red, said to be created by a drop of blook made by the crown of thorns on Jesus' head at his crucifixion. Is said to represent tragedy amongst other things. Many thanks for your review, Soren. ,

[Dara]

I simply loved this warm, fun, nostalgic write! Visions of the three of you playing so vividly in my mind, I could almost hear you and the quirky twittering of the lovable red robin. A perfect combination of nature, companionship , and finally home to a warm hearth and loving family.

[emmajoygreen]

You always recreate others' words, Dara.. you feel and then write so kindly This dear lady is no exception, many thanks. Take care, keep safe.

[Dave]

The fondness of such sweet memories you bring back. As a child, outside my bedroom was a tree, in winter its branches were bare of leaves. Each morning I was greeted by the sweetest of songs by a beautiful red robin that for some reason forsook his flight to a warmer clime. Thank you for bringing back to memory.
Take care - Dave

[emmajoygreen]

Am delighted to share your memory, Dave... somehow robins touch the heart.. and have for both of us. Many thanks, sir. Keep warm ...

[Throwing Romeo]

A  long time ago there was a Robin
that shared beautiful poetic sounds
in this very cafe...
Sometimes a little ripple in the rings
of time echo through the voice of
kindred spirit.
Your lovely way of writing truly touches
on more than you may think; me think's,

R.

[emmajoygreen]

Your review is a poem in itself, thank you so very much for your comments and more.

[willweb]

Loved your little new year's story which to me seems like perhaps it is more fact than fiction, though I am not pointing any fingers as I too have had an evening or so wandering in a similar state though, around here neo Robin in its right mind would never venture out in the winter, they are primarily the first sign of spring but that is not to say that the robin mentioned above was a robin at all, or could be. Still, it is your telling, your word usage, your playful and tickling presentation that always finds a smile forming on my face. Thank you for sharing this and tickling my fancy.

[emmajoygreen]

My poem/story is absolutely true, promise. Followed rather a riotous new years eve and the need to clear addled brains! Perhaps that robin,, and truly there was one, it seemed to be tracking us wretched human beings, scolding us in his territory. Pleased to share such a special event, sir.

[Ken e Bujold]

What a sweet poem. Lyrical, and whimsical. A smile for the day. Especially when thinking of Scottish socks. That line was poetic gold.

Ken

[emmajoygreen]

My words are near enough true, Ken e Bujold. The mix 9f sore head and delighted heart still figures high in my memory! Many thanks for your very kind comment, sir.

[Patricia Wedel]

When the Red Red Robin comes throb throb throbbing along… the’ll be no more Sorrow.. tomorrow… my Friend… 🎶 only Snow driven Songs… 🎼 on Em’s Piano…

[emmajoygreen]

Laughing with you but never at you, dear lovely lady.
That robin tracked us throughout that walk, the deer were surely waiting to be seen on New Year's day.! Many thanks for your kindness, dear lady friend. Love to you and Roger, of course. xx