The Cardinal
In the brush of sun,
it was bright as a stoplight,
haughty beak raised
like a tiny traffic cone,
feathers following
the small puffs of its chest,
each red plume waltzing
with the next like rose petals
moved by a delicate wind.
It was there, I swear,
at the edge of my vision
as I was at the end of my tether
with some project now forgotten,
a bloody thumbprint
glowing in verdant grass,
a sharp-cut stop sign.
Its dark gaze met mine
like goosebumps meet skin,
flitting but focused,
narrowing the world down
to a shivering caress.
With a tilt of its head,
it watched me watch it,
sniper dots in my eyes.
In its, two headlights, searching.
8 thoughts on "The Cardinal"
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The imagery is stunning. “a bloody thumbprint
glowing in verdant grass,
a sharp-cut stop sign.”
Love this!
Thank you!
Gorgeous! Such lovely details of the cardinal– and of this close interaction. . . . of the searching.
Glad you liked it!
love the play with stop light and cone;
it was bright as a stoplight,
haughty beak raised
like a tiny traffic cone,
and
a bloody thumbprint
glowing in verdant grass,
a sharp-cut stop sign.
Thank you! The connections took a bit to get right, but I’m happy with the way they turned out.
This poem gave me goosebumps! Arresting imagery👏
Too kind as always, Katrina–thank you!