The Golden Birch and the Goldfinch

There's a goldfinch in the weeping birch
Above my head raining catkin seeds 
That shimmer in the sun and match the gold of the
Fall leaves and the little bird's breast.


The red maple leaves are turning brown
Slowly, their bright majesty waning
Like the glow of the sun dims as the days shorten
And a certain stillness covers all. 


The afternoon glow is deepening 
And the goldfinch has flown higher now, 
Searching and pecking, not bothered by me, down here
Lying in her tree's shade, watching.



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