Poetry

Cardinal

There’s a cardinal outside my window, whose song I constantly hear.
He flaps his wings carelessly,
As he moves through the wind.

The tiny red creature bursts back and forth as it sings;
It often sounds,
To me,
Like he’s calling for his Queen.

It darts back and forth and up and down,
This tiny creature born free.
In front of this caged window,
He sings a tune to me.

He tells me, as he flies, that things will be all right;
He says that even birds mourn this heavy life;
His Queen left him here,
Alone and cold last night;
But the air he breathes is free,
And it always helps him fly.

This cardinal outside my window,
He sees right through me.
I think he keeps coming back,
Because he knows the storm in me.
He sees the foggy clouds,
But reminds me constantly,
That even the coming rain
Gives life to the things I can’t foresee.

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