Friday, December 21, 2012

Snow Blind


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.