cardinal
February 9th before 8 AM

Harvey S. Mozolak

there maple’s crimson
had congealed to brown
taking the small senseless flight
death’s drip
to mound the ground
as the fall storm stirred

at about the same place
and perhaps exactly
on a winter-bare branch
was a bright bird
two days in a row
red as a drop of life
today the third
still February freezing
the air empty
where the twigs like feathers
await returning warmth
and the leaves of light

beneath
in the thawing earth
the cardinal’s claws clasp
beak and break the worm