To the Finch at my Window

You clung to the ledge last night

peering into my classroom

beady-eyed and fairy-feathered.

Did you forget the feeder hangs

behind you? Did you think that

eraser crumbs and paper scraps

would satisfy? We often confuse

the sustenance of suet and seeds,

peering past ordinary days,

looking through glass to

greener grass, supposing that the

Maker offers less than the media.

One thought on “To the Finch at my Window

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