Flight

Red cardinal resting
On the twisted branch
Of the overgrown evergreen that hides
My neighbor’s garage.

Framed with frost
On my window,
He calls
Into the soft blue rhythm
Of falling snow
On this Sunday morning,
Reminding the pines
That the days of summer hide
In the dust of our memories.

His pointed head tilts
Side to side
As he celebrates the rising
Sun.
His chattering drowns
His hunger.

Spreading his wings,
Small avalanches fall
From the branch
When he lifts into the air
In search of summer
And cracked corn.