House Finch

Monday. Monday,
Can’t trust that day.

The Mamas and the Papas wrote that in 1966. They knew a thing or two. They were singing about a lost lover. Mondays around here are more mundane. No tempestuous love affairs ending, or beginning. Just the drag of another work week begun. The kid to hurry from bed to car to school. The pain to be managed. The dogs to be fed. How do I combat the Monday’s?

This little guy, the house finch from Gutter, makes me smile.

Mr. Finch is such a tease.
Look at him blush!
What a shy little guy.
I know for a fact
he’s got a woman back home,
all knocked up.
Yet, here he is
pert and perching.
Trying to make us giggle.
Naughty little fella.

He does make today a little better.

Monday, though, remains a fickle bastard.



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