Winter Finch by Jane Yolen and Ted Lewin

Winter Finch

The goldfinch,

little gambler,

                       has spent his summer color.

He turns up    

at my feeder  

         in his winter wings,

         shabby as a beggar 

 on a city street.

I know that     

                       when the luck of spring winds

               returns his gambler's vest

       he will pick through 

the seeds            

      I spread before him 

as carelessly       

                  as if they were dollar chips. 

                                                   --Jane Yolen

                                                  Bird Watch

Old Tom (Bird Watch) Jane Yolen and Ten Lewin

Old Tom

Across the wet glade,

where the spring green

was still shiny and shade

gave way to shale

the old tom strutted.

Fanning out his bordered tail 

and quick-stepping, wings

sweeping the leaves,

he called his hens. 

Who could see this king 

featherless and gutted, 

crisped and basted,

bordered with yams?

We went home instead and tasted

supermarket tom, 

oozing butter and stuffing, 

whose life had been short

and made for the pan.

In matters of eating, 

our minds do what they can.