Goldfinches

The feeder hangs swaying,
no avian fellows alighting.
(males are the brightest; why?)
I wait and watch–they’ve flown I wonder where–for food?
Will their shimmering yellow return,
a harbinger of the lightening days ahead?
Indeed, one by one, I know they’ll come
hungry again (still) as they’ve done
year after year finding food,
flying beauty, feeding me with 
their golden arrival.

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