The rainbow streak

The twigs crunch beneath my feet.

I search the skies with my eyes.

Where is the little rainbow streak?

I remembered there was a vibrant bird,

taking off for flight.

Now there is no more in sight,

or one that could be heard.

Where is the little rainbow streak?

The gentle whispering winds.

The rushing water in a stream.

I feel the sun burning on me.

No rainbow streak.

But somehow, I feel happy.

Because I know, through the people who are saving this bird,

Somewhere out there,

There will always be a little Gouldian Finch.