Enough of Hate
Fear goldfinches, you who traffic in fear,
see how they cling to the thistle sock
flagrantly flashing bright yellow breasts,
fierce little fighters. Label them lesser,
point to their page in the bird book,
cite statistics till the crows come home:
they’ll go right on lifting our gaze toward their light
as days darken in winter’s weak sun.
Fear the juncos foraging beneath our feeders,
whole flocks flaunting black hoods.
Distrust Eurasian doves – they migrated here –
and sharp-billed pine siskins pushing toward seeds,
insisting on staying alive, waving
their barred-wing flags. Above all, beware
visions, like this varied thrush brushing
white-frosted grass with her blue/rufus breast
igniting the Solstice. Already ice
is melting, soft as this morning’s white moon.
— Bette Husted