The cardinals
that streak by the window
and vanish into the trees
don’t see how fine
their colors are, don’t care
that their beaks are also red,
that even their women
are more full of color
than the other birds
of the land. They chatter
among the red-budded maples
as though their beauty
were no different from that
of a common sparrow.
They swoop across the road
and leave behind a bright
blessing of red that vibrates
for a moment above
the ice-edged asphalt.


© by Tamara Madison.
Used with the author’s permission.