Pondering my thoughts for the evening, I gaze at a goldfinch outside my window.  His little head adorns a black cap, even the glow beneath cannot be hidden from its glory, and with black wings, majestic as an angel.  He adorns a breast plate of gold, signaling he is the prime species of his kind. He has earned the right to choose a mate.  No other male will challenge his rights. His beak shaped like the tip of a javelin rod, a cone piercing weapon that splits open the guts of a sunflower seed. He is a knight in his own right. Talon piercing claws ready to answer the call of battle. His grip, if only temporary, is enough to ward off others.
       Perched on a sunflower, he offers his bird song, “chip-ee, chip-ee, chip-ee,” as he begs for the attention of a golden beauty. Not one answers his call. , “Chip-ee, chip-ee, chip-ee,” he calls once more, only to be denied love’s quest. No knight to battle, no lady to love. He lifts his wings and takes flight, soaring to the heavens far above me, from my sight. Maybe tomorrow, he will sing again, searching for his true love, trusting that a maiden will knock on his heart’s door.

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