Robin

With its brick red breast
The robin sits on his nest
On its unmarked pale blue eggs
Chicks with shaky, short legs
The fledglings need to be fed
From grasses is made their bed
Worms are in the robin's beak
For more it still has to seek
To feed the hungry brood
With insects, and other food
It searches day after day
There is no time to stay
At fall the youngsters can fly
Insects are going to die
On fruit the robin will now feed
Winter fat is what it need
To survive the coldest season
It doesn't know the reason
For all the snow and ice,
But sometimes winter can be nice