Gentle little feathered friend of mine
Only for you should we build a shrine
Little you ask but much pleasure bring
During the day we can hear you sing
Fine gold is the color of your breast
In the eve you take it to your nest
No other bird just loves thistle seed
Clinging to the bag or to the weed
Here’s to you; may you have what you need
Square Poems 36: Goldfinch Acrostic
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