Red cardinal glides
down from the brown branch.
His nest lies deeply hidden
within the bush’s comfort.
He has left his mate,
trusting her with the seeds
of his fluid,
put into the eggs
upon which she sits.
He comes to my lawn to find food
to feed his family.
His sweet whistle, his call, echoes
in my heart
as his delicate feet
touch my ground.
His crown points like an arrow
to the empty sky.
He is all triangles, comb to feet.
A red feather gently loosens its grip
and falls from his breast
to land at my bare feet.
