NOT QUITE THE SAME
One odd looking goldfinch, wasn’t
accepted by the rest,
It tried to make friends but did not
seem to pass the test,
It hopped and flew like the others,
but his yellow was brighter
And the marking in his wing feathers
were much lighter.
When dusk came, in our garden
he sadly did stay,
Why didn’t he fly off to his nest
at the end of the day?
Maybe he was not a wild bird
but somebodies pet,
I went into the garden, walked close
and he did not fret.
I quietly called him “Pretty boy” he
came to my outstretched finger
I stood up and gently walked indoors
and still he did linger.
I placed him on my shoulder and he
looked all around,
He stayed there quite happy as
the newspaper I found.
Lost, the paper read, one small canary
who answers to Fred.
I phone the number given in the ad
and quietly and simply said,
“I have your little bird right here with me,
he’s as fine as he can be”
It belonged to an old lady who lived
not too far away from me,
I placed Fred in a box telling him I
was going to take him home,
You should have heard him sing to her
after his few days roam.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson July 25, 2003