Turn
A golden finch-hen on a glass doorknob
A mockingbird blocking her nest
The spring chimes are ringing
Each time she takes flight
Winter postures while puffing his chest
A sharp beak will glint in the sun just like glass
And all mamas’ scared eyes look the same
We shoulder this season
To spite winter’s bite
Crying out for creation if even in vain
-me
Painting: The Goldfinch, Carel Fabritius
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