Go out into the weather-beaten world
where straw men lean on frozen fields
and find the cardinal's scarlet flash of wing,
a winter heart, a feathered hope.
Without a camera or a memory,
we travel these old country roads,
turn corners like the pages of a book,
enchanted by the ordinary life
of fields and rocks and woods,
of small wild creatures stirring in the brush.
We take home pockets full of myths
and wonders seldom seen.
We will not give up easily,
Across the breakfast table
in our precarious nest,
we make those promises keep on going
that no one ever keeps. And yet...
there is the cardinal again,
a finial on our old gray fence.
Red is for Valentines.
Dolores Stewart
This morning's poem is reprinted with permission from Dolores Stewart's gorgeous volume of poetry, The Nature of Things.
3 comments:
Beautiful bird! I recently had an experience with a Cardinal through my brother sending me a video of one he encountered... Such auspicious symbolism... From what I understand they are messengers from the Spirit world, or a loved one who has passed. My mother's favorite bird was a Cardinal... Who knows... But I like to think that's so... :)
Our cardinals hang around all winter waiting to b fed. They are warmth in the cold gray dawn.
I so utterly love Dolores' poetry. Just spent about an hour (for the umpteenth time) hunting all over for any copies of her collections. Evidently, Bellowing Ark Press is no more, so they are just nowhere to be found.
So thank you for continuing to share her work here. A balm for my spirit, and a reminder of how beloved she is.
As are you.
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