• cardinal •
Popped out to check on the arbor, the leaves and branches, now, sulky, fusty and purulent of sodden leaf-wastes of ochres, browns, and greys – still, though, bearing a treasure thereon, all the better to feed upon, fairly laden with Summer’s grapes. A dozen, or so, sparrows, are larking about, eating their fill, as one would expect, but silently, as if looking for the cat. At the last, a proud Cardinal makes an appearance, a remembrance of red. Vibrant. Fidgety.
“What?” He seemed to say, eyeing me in astonishment, frozen on a branch. “Is it safe? Should I pop off? I could use some refreshment.”
From behind the clouds, colors burst as the sun makes a sudden appearance. Red, like a friend, settles into my eye, like nourishment, like warm rhubarb pie.
“Nah. Help yourself.” I say.
“I’ll watch out for the cat.” I soothe.
“You are welcome. Stick around, if you like. We could use some color about the place. ”
~ Tim Burchfield
12/3/15
