The Finch
When I spot the bit of yellow, I wonder
how it feels to be made of the holy color
I think it must feel marvelous
up on a winners podium nominated for lucky
To streak the sky, blue & filled
with treacherous planes, under the
pines, graced with the very sunrise.
One thought on "The Finch"
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I love the wonder and the awe of this poem. Thank you!