The little dabs
of bright yellow, red and black
that tease
the drab around them
in sunny weather
feathers.
It was in Airdrie at in-laws
where I could go
to see them
- exotic Sri Lanka
come to Scotland almost -
and also your fledgling home.
Your attraction was a loud crack of gunshot.
You magically appeared
blasting out all background
in tropical colours
and somehow I managed
to ruffle your feathers enough
to capture
and bring you home
these 18 years.
Till you got away from me.
Alone now
in the house I'm having to
search out
what it was
that was me. Before you.
I thrill at goldfinches.
So I've set the bait.
Put seeds in the garden
and waited right here
at my very own table.
And, little flecks of promise,
they came.
They come.
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