End of summer / An old robin on a rainy day

Outside my window I can see the trees, full of old greens and tattered around the edges with the end of summer. The wind has been blowing fitfully. I think we've had rain twice, today, already. 

Anyway, the trees are close to the house and birds like to hop from one to another. Usually I see them gliding in a sort of gentle falling motion and maybe bringing themselves up with a sweep once or twice before landing on an opposite branch. 

As I was watching, today, a robin with dun-colored wings and a dusty red underbelly was caught by a sudden breeze as it flew from tree to tree and it hung for a moment about two feet from my window with its wings outspread, mid-flight. The window pane framed the scene like it was a nature study in a gallery.

The feathers on the robin's belly were uneven and streaked or furrowed; it looked less as if they were part of an injury but more as if they were soaked underneath. The feathers of its wings stretched out in a perfect arc but at the edges, they, too, were shabby and worn in shades of brown and grey. 

The breeze lifted and the bird took another flap of the wings to land in the next tree without apparent upset. There's some yellowing greens in the branches and a few leaves fell easily on the lawn.