When Jesse died
You visited me with goldfinches
With each colorful flutter of wings,
evidence–I was seen.
In the years since
When I’d see their tiny yellow frames
I’d take it as proof, surety.
You were with me.
But I saw with greater frequency
Plain, tawny, common finches—
Which I’d dismiss with disappointment,
hoping instead I’d see Your reminder again,
Today, another lackluster finch
followed me on my walk,
flitting from tree to tree,
always next to me.
And as music played through headphones in my ears
a soundtrack only I could hear rang out:
What if all the while,
this whole time,
You were right here?
You were still visiting
in those simple brown wings.
What if You were saying
You are with me always.
You don’t withhold Your presence for
the appearance of brighter things.