Showy Orchis
Currency
Dandelions
blooming in the soccer field
fly up
into the windbreak pines –
30 goldfinches
on Good Friday. Thirty,
I counted them,
not silver coins but weightless
currency
to purchase . . . what?
Winter
breaks without a promissory note,
mockingbird
can’t hold back his chorus.
Tristis
the goldfinch, sad one named
not for color
but for his song. Barter
as I may
there are some things I can’t
repay.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Bill Griffin 4/22/2011
