John Delaney retired as curator of historic maps at Princeton University Library, and moved out to Port Townsend, WA. He’s traveled widely, preferring remote, natural settings, and is addicted to kayaking and hiking. In 2017, he published Waypoints (Pleasure Boat Studio, Seattle), a collection of place poems. Twenty Questions, a chapbook, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press.

Purple Finch

Your head is the size of a small acorn.
You barely weigh more than a first-class letter.
Hard to imagine—out of an egg born—
from the get-go, you were a go-getter.

So much to see and do within each minute!
Branches were your brethren. Your rosy vest
flashing among them trailed a warbling fest.
Sunflower seeds fueled your frantic diet.

The world is an adventure, full of harm,
but made more precious from your visit.
In my hand, your still body still is warm—
yet you are gone, and all that goes with it.

Fancy the flights if you had not flown
where a cat would enforce its no-fly zone.

[image: Simon Pierre Barrette/Wikimedia Commons]