Friday, December 21, 2012

Snow Blind


Snowblind


The cardinal at the feeder knows I’m here

Peering from behind the sliding door.

He flutters his denial that I matter--

He must eat; his voice in fact demands it

And there’s snow: cold, blank



Never mind.  The black of sunflowers cracked

And spilled, wards off all human menace

With promises of fuller green.

He is sated now and leaves me to my dream.