Canto do Pintassilgo

Surprised out of sorrow

by bright bursts of yellow

flitting past green leaves

like flashes of unexpected sunlight,

I open windows to liquid warbling

spilling through the branches.

A language of cheer

I am too mournful to mimic.

There seems a secret message

I am missing.  Oh really?

Fwit fwut, bay-bee, tee-tee,

po-ta-to-chip. 

Relentless

goldfinches fill

the space upbeat, bouncy

no place for sorrow.

Curious, intent,  immersed

in mystery with no dictionary

and a heart full of longing

to connect.