For six days now, a goldfinch

At my kitchen window—
A female, because she’s clad more in olive
Than yellow, has shown up. No,
More than appeared,
She’s even tapped the glass with her beak—

I’ve heard her from the next room,
She wants my attention, stares at me,
And each morning as I make coffee,
I don’t expect her, yet
She is there, on the sill, peering in at me.

We held a staring contest once,
And the only reason I won was the cat
Interrupted us.

I Google the significance of her presence,
Wonder what her message might be:
Optimism, aspiration, joy.

Today, I was making a grocery list.
What was that last thing?
On the one leafless branch outside,
She popped by and told me:

I fear she put a spell on me.
Now I feed her for luck.

Anne Pinkerton’s poetry and essays have appeared in The Sunlight Press, Hippocampus Magazine, Vita Brevis Anthology, River Teeth’s Beautiful Things, Modern Loss, and Stone Gathering, among others. Her memoir will be published by Vine Leaves Press in 2023.

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