I met a house finch yesterday.
Oddly enough,
we were nowhere near a house.
She sang me her song,
weep-weep-sidderee-churr,
and cocked her head,
shot a side-eyed glance,
as if to ask
whether I approved.
By the time I stopped debating
if it’s odd to talk to birds,
and offered my compliment,
she was gone—
presumably flitting off
to serenade someone less hesitant
to heap praise
on songbirds in busy public parks.
The Truth About Tigers 