The Dance

The finches have returned to feed.
The grays of winter have been cast off.
The bright yellow of the male
is set off by the hushed green of its mate.
Both dance around the bird feeder
as if proclaiming to the other
with voices in chirps and twitters,
"Look what I found!" 
I would be chided for such a song and dance
around the dining room table as the meal 
is placed with loving, serving hands.
The scold, though, would come with a smile,
a smile that has wrapped me in comfort and care
for years as we dance life together for another day.