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 very soul demands it
And there’s snow, a curse, a blessing--
Never mind. The black of sunflowers cracked
And spilled, wards off all human menace
With promises of safe and woody green.
He is sated now and leaves me to my dream.