Oh, do you have time
 to linger
 for a little while
 out of your busy
 and very important day
 for the goldfinches
 that have gathered
 in a field of thistles
 for a musical battle,
 to see who can sing
 the highest note,
 or the lowest,
 or the most expressive of mirth,
 or the most tender?

 Their strong, blunt beaks
 drink in the air
 as they strive
 melodiously
 not for your sake
 and not for mine
 and not for the sake of winning
 but for sheer delight and gratitude –
 believe us, they say,
 it is a serious thing
 just to be alive
 on this fresh morning
 in this broken world.

 I beg you,
 do not walk by
 without pausing
 to attend to this
 rather ridiculous performance.

 It could mean something.
 It could mean everything.
 It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
 You must change your life.