Spring Robin

Began writing this last Spring. One of those one’s what ended up in the ‘finish later’ file, which I’m now trying to clean on through.
Still deserving, though I need to grow beyond this plodding rhyme scheme.
When I arrange my first poetry collection (working title, "Cats & Birds and Other Words) in order by Season, this will place about Mid-April..

Spring Robin

Looking odd, eyes there, the Robin cocks his head,
Does he note the marching ant,
  the pulsing earthworm under plants?
Or may he gladly hear, attendant with the other ear
  those blessings which puff clouds high might grant?

A scuttle on, he turns his head,
  to take in what Nature has spread,
Stays long enough upon this stop
  to peck at fresh grit for his crop,
Or what he takes of insectivorous fare,

He hops again, eye to blue sky,
   one wonders does he wonder why?
Might he ponder Hawking’s physic laws,
   or good old Nature’s ethics flaws?
Does he conceive blue Heavens dome
   as a partner to our Earthly home?

My guess is he, but just my hunch,
   is devout to
     his fledglings lunch