The Cardinal

The cardinal in a snow-clad tree 
prances through the branches. 
With glossy eyes, all masked in 
black, he darts and dashes from 
side to side casting furtive glances.

Perching himself on the slightest 
limb, he bobs up and down with
the lightest wind, yet still he 
dances, with crest and chest ablaze 
in red, orange beak pointed straight 
ahead, and wings still wrapped in 
winter feathers, waiting to brighten 
with warmer weather .

He shakes his head back and forth,
looks south and east, testing his 
course, then with an ounce of force
he lifts his wings to fly away, the
lone splash of color in a sky so grey