Gold Finch Feeding In The Rain Poem by John Rickell

Crystals on the window panes
shining pavements and gurgling gutters
mirror pools and scurrying clouds
gaudy umbrellas, pink boots and plastic macs.
Today the grass looks greener, standing tall,
wild flowers kaleidoscopic more than Jacob's coat
gold finch on the feeder, eager sun-flower seeds
seems not to mind rain dripping from her tail.
Somewhere dry her brood, three perhaps. Who knows?
Birds dashing to their nests, never look to find them,
ethnic congregations, narrow chattering streets
of dripping leaves, dark alleys, ivy on the wall
happy in the rain or sun, (not so much in winter)
each day the same no matter what the weather.
(My tea that bit warmer, no milk today,
bought too much on Thursday
spoilt the first cup of the day,
curdled as I poured it, will I never learn?)
Jack's curled on the rug one eye on me
the other on a walk........
he knows it's raining 'course he does
takes his lesson from the gold finch
feeding in the rain.