Wild Finches

By Anna Smith | Posted:

To Possibilities by Szymborska

I prefer yellow.
I prefer wild finches.
I prefer sunbeams that dust-bathe on the driveway,
leaves that fly back up into the poplar lane,
ragwort that murmurates above the paddock.
I prefer the birds that perch like yellow socks
pegged to washing lines, power lines, and barbed wire fences.

I prefer the times of nesting, mating, and migrating
to the times of crisis and recreating,
the timing of insects to that of stars.

I prefer the words of Jesus to opinion pieces,
political preachers, protests and scripted speeches.

Over Pac'n'Save and panic shopping, I prefer to learn of God,
who paints yellow on the uncropped grass and poplars,
who provides feed for the wild finches,
who says,
"Do not fear, you are worth more than many finches."