Reflections
This morning the cardinal lands
the lawn dormant brown.
A server in a Mexican restaurant
said it was her favorite bird.
I loved her back then.
Legend says seeing it
means someone who died
is trying to contact me.
My father?
My mother?
Who?
During long summers
they took me to uncle’s farm.
My uncle drove a Farmall
painted red at the factory
for pride. The seeds he planted
sprouted oats colored gold
to be gathered in fall.
Long hours he worked
he was a patient man.
After harvest the fields
laid in shadows, only
only to rise in spring.
The cardinal’s red
is a reflection of light
when I awaken and gaze
outside the window
as morning calls me to live
live again.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
