Imagined glimpse of movement I did spy,
Yet when I lean my head to catch the view
he flits away, I cannot verify
that he was there at all, a breeze that blew.
But patience is its own reward, it’s true,
For not a moment later there he stood,
To gather in his bill more seed to chew,
And may, perchance, return to nest with food.
Diminutive, this finch (not blackbird’s brood),
With delicate demeanor and bright song,
He’s gentle, not a bully of the woods,
So safely here at feeder he belongs.
He seems to sense my gaze is not a threat,
So linger we, together, ‘till sunset.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Transient