My son’s favorite bird is the bird the American Goldfinch. We spied a few on a recent hike. Said bird and said hike gave rise to the following poem. Take your time with this one.

Image result for gold feather


They never drip
from a genie’s lamp
nor will a clover
with the required leaves
produce the proper magic

to herald the dreams
that drift atop a cloud’s
sunny side; however,
wishes can be secured
beneath the shadows

that sleep under feathers fallen
from finches or warblers
if the feather falls from a flapping wing
just as dawn reaches,
as a kind hand, across a meadow

choked with wildflowers,
but mind you, the shadow
must be carefully peeled
from the earth and draped
over a flower’s bloom

so that the bird that lost the feather
that cast that shadow
might snatch the shade
from the flower’s crown
and stuff it in the dark of its nest.

Then, and only then,
might you wish a wish
that will surely sprout into truth.



One thought on “Wishes

  1. I’m glad you suggested that I take my time with this one. I was captivated at the very beginning by your description of a four-leaf clover. As I got deeper into the poem, I saw your intertwined ideas stitched together eloquently. I’m bookmarking this one – it calls for repeated readings to savor the nuances you offer.


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