Cardinal

Perched on a golden branch
Outside my window
There stood a red bird
A bird, cardinal
And he stared, and he peered
Right through my window
Hoping I would sing the song
He sings all along

His crimson breast burned bright
Like a compass pointing north
And north was somewhere to be found
Among south, and east, and westward
He tilted his head in every direction
Direction, cardinal
To count distances only birds can know
Before flying to its new location

I followed where his bright beak pointed
And taking flight from branches to arches
The leaves now became stained glasses
There, found he a dark man 
A man, cardinal
Clothed in scarlet robes 
And keeper of traditions
Carrying secrets as the bird did with its song

And the bird, not too pleased
With his landing trajectory
Clipped the top of the dark man’s mitre
And from his talons he propelled
Spreading his wings to find new points of landing
Counting as he passed the places below
1,2,3,4…singing, numbers cardinal
And gliding as he soared

Alas, he flew back to my window
Returning to his branch, he perched
The red bird staring as though he had never left 
To scout greener pastures somewhere out there
But he had learned a rule of cardinal
And in it I saw myself reflected
Not every greener field grows deeper roots
Some branches shelter the body
But only ONE Vine Shelters the soul