Tiny finch you land with a beakful
of nesting material spinning
a pretty crimson tail
I am motionless, considerate of
any mishap that might interrupt
or cause you to reject my presence
I watch your numerous returns
where with lightning quickness
you successfully organize
into a tiny nest, various grasses,
downy seeds or woolly tufts
plucked from a grazing sheep-
I marvel at your resourcefulness
Your tiny survivability
Your happy twittering
which makes life seem,
suddenly less daunting
Categories:
firetail, beauty, bird, hope,
Form: Free verse