the finch sits on the feeder, braving the whipping wind
a robin perches on the water bowl
what does it see when it looks within?
furled feathers, glass-black eyes, tiny clawed toes
not lost paths, forgotten hopes, and crashed dreams from long ago
the disruptions, interference, and noise will always be without end
best to rely on warmth, a steady path, and a heart that dutifully will mend
standing to face it all, never bother what the cold has to say
take it in stride, but don’t let it ruin your day
the finch finds rest on the feeder’s edge, tuning out the outer riot
knows to rest, observe, and embrace inner quiet
failures and different pathways are not lamentable losses
they’re just how we learn out way through lessons, wisdom with a cost.
the sagacious bee 