Goldfinches have over run
the feeder,
loudly territorial
glutenous
messy eaters
scattering
seed
like idle gossip
flinging
it
hap
haz
ar
dly
one beak full
happily
down
to plebeian
juncos
waiting
beneath
hooded
like
begging
monks
waiting
patiently
in the company
of a solitary dove.
In the warmth
of a short lived
beam of sun
sits
a song sparrow
sweetly
trilling
as if to hasten
spring,
which
blooming
crocuses
eerily
announce
way too soon:
this is a fool’s dream
winter is far from done,
rains
still drown
the morning sun,
and the sound
of cascading
water thumps
dawn’s
quiet
tip tapping
the metal roof:
tin soldier
not about
to stand down.
These dark
winter
days
force
the soul
to blanket
itself
in memories
of brighter days
when
shadows
give way
to blazing
incandescent skies
green hills
dotted
with wildflowers
jasmine blooms
pines
thick
with beetle life
rose buds
on every corner 
in this city
of mud
turned ripe
and
tender
gifting
beauty
daily
on even
the plainest street,
daisies
lilies
apple blossoms
hyacinths
lilacs
magnolias
tulips
camellias
irises
wondrous
copious
roses
stomping out
winter’s long shadow.
Great photos to go with your greater words. All yours?
Sadly no