Flame Robins

I stood and watched them for a half an hour or more As they flew from their nest on wattle tree to forest floor And back again to nest with food in bill To feed their young the insects they did kill. The female bird of brown and lightish gray In comparison to her partner dressed in drab array And male with slate gray back and breast of flame And flame robins for them do seem an apt name. At this time of year they've little time for song As they work to feed their young the whole day long From dawn till dark their babies cry for food And the parents must keep hunting for their brood. Male flame robin has a happy song to sing And his low notes have such a pleasant ring At daybreak from small gum or wattle tree He utters forth his cheerful melody. On hot November afternoon in middle Spring A time of year when fledgelings take to wing I watched flame robins feed their family In cup shaped nest in fork of wattle tree.