soft spot

He glances up at the robin's nest,

nestled atop the loudspeaker box,

Blue eggs scarcely visible beneath their

mother's breast, their father off hunting the

succulence of worms. He ponderously adjusts his tool belt.

'Now, if it was a starling, a swallow,

a grouse or whatever,

I'd say to hell with it,
thwack it down.

But robins? 

Well, I got a soft spot for robins.'