The Economy of Finches

The fluorescent beauty of the goldfinch
Reminds me of an extravagance
Measured by other means
And the sweep of the second hand on my watch
Reminds me that time is abundant
When measured in the smallest of bits

It is the measuring, then
That tends to confound me
As I find the mortal mind to be shifty
And unreliable with such weighty matters

What is the total – when summed
By some ethereal accountant
How can I calculate the balance
Remaining in a heart broken
Too many times for counting
And what debts are owed and owing
By me – and to me
When there are few guarantees of payment
Why would anyone but a fool keep a ledger

The wind reminds me that it has never
In the history of breathing, ever
Even once measured or demanded payment
For the relief it brings
To the scorched faces and bodies
Tested with too much sunlight

The house finches sing and chatter excitedly
At the feeder of seeds that are
Magically replenished
By a large being that
They do not understand

I should remember that
On most days
I am similarly blessed

The winds blow
The river flows unending
And lovers exchange mysteries
That only the greatest poets and painters can comprehend

For the rest of us fools
It is good to remember
We and the goldfinches are blessed
With wonders we neither own nor initiate

dg
7/19/20

 

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