A goldfinch flapped its tiny wings

and it began to fly,

at first across the meadow green

then upward toward the sky,

a golden speck upon the breeze;

it seemed so small to fly so high,

gathering the golden beams

of a radiant, golden sun

to return and perch on a thistles bloom

once its flight was done,

a splash of gold and amethyst

on a meadow’s summer green;

a few moments shared, the bird and me,

‘twas such a marvelous scene.

A goldfinch is a lovely bird,

a tiny, precious thing

and I thrilled to listen to the notes

this lovely gold bird sings.