A Cardinal Loved Me...
A cardinal loved me.
Each day he came
to the kitchen window
to watch me
as I washed dishes.
He hovered there,
wings fluttering
like the fans
on a jet engine.
His black eyes
would meet and
hold mine,
searching.
Light, like that
which hovers on an
angel's wings
exuded from
the depths of him.
He held me in awe.
I held him in awe.
Then one morning,
I found his body
on the deck,
a shock of
crimson against the
freshly fallen snow.
He had likely been
the victim of
one of the cats.
I put him in a
shoebox and kept
him beside me
for several weeks.
Decay never claimed him,
but the light
that was him
had gone out of
his frail body.
I could no longer feel it.
I hoped against hope
that the magic
would somehow return.
I needed a miracle.
They didn't understand.
"Get rid of it!"
they urged me.
"For heaven's sake,
bury him!" they said.
I finally bowed
to their demands
and took him
to the garden
and buried him
in the most beautiful spot
as if I were planting
the seeds to a
beautiful dream
that would materialize
before my eyes.
Then I sat on the
frozen grass for
a long while,
still clinging to
my hope for a miracle.
Of course,
nothing happened.
God doesn't work that way.
His hand is more subtle.
It wasn't until
spring came to thaw
the snow on his grave
that I realized
I'd already received
the miracle,
a gift of love.
And my heart is
all the better
for having been
loved by a cardinal.
"A Cardinal Loved Me," written and designed by Bobette Bryan, (C) 2009
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