The Vibrant Channeled Creator

Yesterday when I came home, my dog Spot had, once again, opened the door to let himself out into the back yard. In my house a bird had taken refuge. We had a long conversation. That bird prompted this poem written especially for Cory who writes excellent nature poetry herself.

The Gold Finch

When I think of that finch
flying forth from deep dreams
toward the sun lit fields
o’er waves of wild mustard
covering hills in gold–
the bird’s toes grasp a twig
bouncing in the cold breeze,
to eat seed to it’s fill.
Those mustard seeds a promise–
deep in my mind, far back,
spring will arrive again,
with faith.

My dear Joy:
I have 50 resident goldfinch living on my deck in NY and wonder at their zig-zag flight and the change of color with the seasons. Your mention of the mustard smell and color piques the senses already stirred.
I have no printer here so will hope you permit my posting this on my blog so it lives on more than David’s ground.
You amaze me, my gentle broadcaster.
Jeanne