Best Cardinal Poems | Poetry

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New Cardinal Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Cardinal poems are below this new poems list.

Red Cardinal by Spike, Elicia
Cardinal Love by Dillenbeck, Gerald
The Cardinal by Meeker, Catelyn
Cardinal Directions by Cover, Eric
The Cardinal by Pettit, Robert
Desert Cardinal by Alhemaidy, Abdullah
JUSTICE, JUSTICIA - Cardinal Virtues 2 by Palmer, David
PRUDENCE, PRUDENTIA - Cardinal Virtues 1 by Palmer, David
Cardinal Adoration by Deb, Nilima
Cardinal Dance by Dillenbeck, Gerald

View all new Cardinal Poems

The Best Cardinal Poems

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December Magic

Frost crisped, the lawn remained
beneath the frozen dew.
Water dripped to ice as gutters drained.
The cardinal bids the day adieu;
the winter storm has left a gelid view.



Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015


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Java and Me

A sonnet I will write with you today
Inspired by the beauty that I see
Beyond this pane of glass where snowflakes play
Beyond this pane where raindrops used to be

The creek behind the house has turned to white
How silently she rests upon this morn
Her muddy depths completely out of sight
Beneath a face where ice begins to form

The trees once leafy raise their barren limbs
Where now those scarlet feathers can be seen 
A Cardinal in flight upon a whim
Upon a winter morning so serene

Beyond this window pane from which I gaze
And stare in wonder...at this world... amazed

...

A  blue jay breaks the silence with his trill
That sends those scarlet feathers to the air
Across the creek they fly to yonder hill
Where combines of the windmills creak...beware

The sun begins to rise up from the east
Exposing all the diamonds in the snow
Abreast the oak and maple leaves deceased
The frosty face of winter all aglow

With gratifying java on my lips
With a  big coffee cup held in  my hand 
I tap my table top with fingertips
While humming Crosby's Winter Wonder Land

Beyond this window pane from which I gaze
I stare in wonder ...at this world...amazed


Written:  Dec. 10Th, 2016


Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2016


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GIFT OF SPRINGTIME



Praise this moment with charms it brings
Through mid of June, on robins' wings

Sunflowers blush as petals creep
Along easels of meadow's keep.

Winter's arctic days now long gone,
That morn's fair promise trails upon

Breezes sweet , once an icy blast,
Engrave a kiss on spring at last

Cardinal swoons with trilled refrains
Upon leaves' edges  like beaded grains,

For springtime is a godly rite 
When heaven molds  its prized delight!

           
 .................
 for Brian Strand


Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016


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By Any Other Name

If love could have a color, I suppose
it wouldn’t be just any common shade.
I’d name it for the colors of the rose.
In heaven’s hues this flower is arrayed!

From chaste love’s hush of pink to heady rush
that’s shown by cardinal or crimson red,
the rose reveals the grades of ardor’s blush
unto the time it’s thought that passion’s fled.

But in the tint of amaranth, the fire
endures; in purple deep it can transcend,
while yellow blooms in bliss that does not tire,
and white’s fidelity will have no end.

Though black the bud, a red will grow thereof.
By any other name, the rose is love.


The rose is definitely my favorite flower!


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010


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God's Whispers

An amethyst sunset splashed across the sky, a rainbow after a storm; majestic mountains crowned with snow, and a pristine lake of cobalt blue. A crimson cardinal hopping across the lawn, the purring of a cat curled up in my lap, its fur soft against my fingers; wisteria hanging in grape-like clusters, infusing the air with its intoxicating perfume, and azaleas in full bloom. The soft sigh of a baby's breath against my cheek, and the innocent laughter of children at play. A hug from a friend, my true love's kiss, the arms of my grandchild wrapped tightly around my neck. In all these things, and so much more, God's quiet voice whispers, "I love you." 11/12/15 Entered in PD's Any Poem #35 contest


Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2015


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Cardinal at the feeder

The brittle stems of Queen Anne's Lace
reduced to barren winter bone;
a hoarfrost Ermine coat embrace,
impaled in soil that's turned to stone.

The flowers now are wicker cups,
wear Bowler's hats of purest white;
the snowflakes that they interrupt
await the wind; resume their flight.

The Junco in the Prairie Grass,
drad colors blending, stem and snow; 
his flitting business come to pass
without a glimpse of style, or show.

White crystal mist; the morning still,
a cold and colorless display;
the fenceposts marching up the hill
like soldiers, slowly fade away.

This day in its entirety 
constructed thus to fit the mood,
cabin bound and winter weary,
must you in my lament intrude?

From deep within the Cedar tree
in blazing red from cap to tail,
you interrupt my woe-is-me,
insure my pensive mood will fail!
 


Copyright © Wayne Sapp | Year Posted 2010


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Scars Left Behind

Remembering the days of yesteryear
when family ties were held most dear,
gas lamps flickered in the back street
while most of us danced a different beat.
Tragic alleyways of smog and smut
“Live over the brush”* branded a ****,
silhouettes in fringe the darkest night
gullible back shift broke the morning light.
Adventurous nights at “Townhead Mill”
eight pints of beer the back porch thrill,
when no meant yes in rapturous skill
to fumigated music from “Nashville.”
Obnoxious libertine this bread man
bay curtain drawn delivery van,
the situation conspired indiscretion
clinical the world’s oldest profession.
Sporting gentlemen in summer bliss
caught first ball costly night on the piss,
pavilion home to moorside drover
many a chaste maiden bowled over.
Partial pilgrimage down “Bolton Road”
black and amber heroes round ball code,
liniment buoyant throughout the room
manly skills embroider the village groom.
Cardinal days steeped in “Rock ‘n’ Roll”
sire in fear of them out of control,
a colossal wedge between cultures
in shadows of decency vile vultures.
Repetitious days of school yard might
the bullies reduced one’s life to plight,
parents queried yet misunderstood
reasons for mayhem in the neighbourhood.
Lad and lasses lost in “Hide and seek”
games of “Stroke a back” every week,
by the old school grounds we all did laik**
now the street is naked for heaven sake.
Why on earth would a mind keep drifting back
this poetry constantly placing me on track,
when life was a role without fame or stars
only toil and trepidation and these scars?

© Harry J Horsman 2013   

*Living in sin
** Play


Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2013


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Sounds and Nuances of Blue

Blue washes over me sometimes and will not let me go.
Melancholy soon becomes the ROAR  of frothing ocean waves,  
 toppling me   into       navy blue.
Frustration too arrives, sometimes in the form of gulls screaming in my mind!
That is when I’m sinking  sinking   sinking   into     deep dark blue.                                    
                                                        
Other times, however, blue is light - an airy powder and nearly tranquil
except for the occasional whoosh     of a gentle breeze.
I love to hear its aqua lapping  lapping  lapping  softly at my feet
 while I lie in warm white sand beneath   a cloudless expanse of azure sky.

Blue is often glad - winging its way through fields and trees
singing notes from throats of happiness’ birds
or raising heads of periwinkle flowers to beautify spring and summer days.

Blue nearly fades    away     completely     in the fall
but reappears at times as splendid sapphire sunsets  
melding into cardinal, amber or rose
and utterly silent -   like the stars that glisten in the indigo of night.

Once in a blue moon I might see on snow   
                                                             a rare glow.
It beckons me to venture out into winter’s beauty
like a brand new lover   enticingly ice blue

so many sounds and nuances of blue! 
but the one I always love         giggles like a child
I want to slide into a sexy sports car  - shining baby blue     
and glide away   Vroom        Vroom           Vroom





Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013


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Summer Nights in the South

Summer Nights in the South Green fireflies blink in the quiet of night and our sleeping old dog heaves a sigh. Dreaming, she sprints through a youthful blue sky chasing delicate clouds, cotton-white. A red-sunset tanager* colors the warm air from a perch in the majestic oak limbs above professing by lullaby, sincerely devoted love, like some sublimely recited evening prayer. I lay back and smile, through the leaves, at the moon to the sound of crops rippling in the breeze thinking how precious are nights such as these when alone, with the Earth I commune.
*Summer Tanagers (Piranga rubra) are native to the southern U.S. but are not true tanagers. They are actually members of the cardinal family. 08/01/15 Submission for Contest: Nature Poems Only Hosted by: Shadow Hamilton


Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015


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Winter Magic


How cold it was that one December day.
We’d put on boots and walked into the wood,
but in new-fallen snow, we lost our way.
As dusk began to creep, we understood
our peril, and our hearts were filled with dread!
Then something strange! Above a bank of snow
appeared a cardinal, bright cherry red!
As if the bird could tell us where to go,
we followed it, and to our great surprise,
we found a bench. Quite unbelievably,
on top of it we saw before our eyes
two mugs beside a red pot of hot tea.
Warmed by the drink, we kept hope in our sight.
The red bird led us home by fall of night!

Dec. 27, 2016


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016


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BLOODLESS - Tale of a Hero and the People He Died For

You knew you were going to die. 1
And yet you came, thinking no matter how insane,
the man on the seat of power would never want you dead
… it would be too much on his head.

And so you came, and there in the brightness of the day
they took your life away, on the tarmac… in broad daylight. 2
I was too young to  fully understand, and yet I cried  -
The greatest leader we never had, the greatest leader we needed to have … died.

August 21, 1983 was a day of ignominy.
The nation suffered from shamed infamy;
Too many people, not just one witness,
yet not anyone saw, everyone was witless.

The world mocked our country of too little people.
Seemed all we could do was pray on the steeple,
we were hopeless, hopeless…helpless…
Quo vadis, Filipino?

The tide of justice was slow in turning,
even though on the streets, one felt intense mourning.
Peace loving people were silently seething,
faithful and compliant, yet inwardly…defiant.

Seventeen years seemed still not enough,
the man on the throne just couldn’t give up;
With close-knit advisers, and media sanitizers -
If one contradicts, he sees the gunpoint…with silencers.

What must have you felt the days after you left? 
Did you think we were too blind, too mute and deaf?
Took almost three years for us, to finally get our act
I guess we were too set in our ways, too afraid…to react.

What the man in power and his cronies up the tower.
must not have considered… are the new movers and shakers.
There was only so much we could take…
There was only so much we could tolerate…

February 25, 1986 was the day we started to fix 3
the road of our shamed history. 
It was the day People Power came to be
the man in power was kicked out from tower
as ordinary citizens , nuns and everyone
faced his armed men aboard the tanks.
People unarmed, just some bottled water, 
a few sandwiches and bunches of flowers.

It was the day we looked up the sky, 
offered a fervent gratitude to heaven’s door -
and told Ninoy…thank you for believing 
“The Filipino is worth dying for”. 4



History Notes:

1. Benigno "Ninoy" Aquino, Jr., then senator and leading opposition leader (to Pres. Ferdinand Marcos, Philippine dictator who was in power 1965-1986) was advised  by the First Lady not to come back from 3-year exile in the USA, as there was a plot to assassinate him. As to whose plot, it was not clarified.

2. Manila International Airport, right after he went out of the airplane. Media took photos from the window.

3.  There was so much social unrest, and Cardinal Sin, through the radio and other respected media men, finally appealed to all people to go out and stage a massive peaceful protest with people making human barricade against the tanks in EDSA Avenue, Metro Manila's main thoroughfare. No one was killed. Ninoy's wife Cory Aquino who won the election, took the oath of office. The People Power Revolution, the first of its kind, in the Philippines and in the world, was eventually copied by France and other countries.

4. Ninoy Aquino, in an interview a few minutes before he left the plane to his death.



31 July 2015


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015


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male red cardinal

male red cardinal rules the feed trough by strong force... nuthatcher eats seed
I was watching the birds at some food that I had placed out on a steroform plate.. A Male Red Cardinal would run all the birds away then this tiny little Nuthatcher would fly in and get one seed..The Cardinal seemed to keep watch while the Nuthatcher ate maybe five or six seeds..


Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2014


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Each Day, A Gift - Answer Me


Each Day, A Gift - Answer Me (this is my response to contest poem below)


I watch the splendor of the rising sun.
A new beginning when the night is done.
This light
so bright
brings hope of living fullest until night.

I live the daydreams that new morning brings;
my heart fills up with joyousness that sings.
My song
is strong
with thanks, another day has come along.

I see new daylight's swaying flowers, trees;
reflect their graceful moves in gentle breeze.
Their dance
a glance
of nature's beauty that holds me in trance.

I feel the inner peace in sunset glow.
Though day is done, with grace of God I know
next dawn
I'm drawn
to capture new day's joy before it's gone.

Each day, a gift from God to hold,
that glows beneath his sun of gold.


Sandra M. Haight

~3rd Place~
Contest: Answer Me
Sponsor: Mystic Rose
Judged: 03/20/2016

My poem is the response to the poem below written my Mystic Rose
------------------------------------------------------------------
Stars Are Our Link To The Great Beyond And God Himself

I watch the splendor of a shooting star 
and breathe the beauty of a hum-guitar   
Her light 
in flight 
is like a million lanterns on a cooling night

I dream awhile beneath the tarp of heaven 
then close my eyes & slowly count to seven 
I wish in true 
for souls renew 
and soon I’m covered in night’s dew 

I loose the mind and pry his realm  
it`s an expedience of God’s mystic dream    
When free 
I see 
the beauty of his creation for all eternity 

I watch the splendor of a bird in flight  
and breathe the beauty of a blessed night 
His wings 
they sing 
to me of freedom, and all a night can bring;

If only we can learn to sing
Like a Cardinal on a string!

Written by: Mystic Rose 
June 24, 2015 


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016


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SNOW BLOSSOM

One bright splash of red
On the snow-covered holly--
A cardinal bloom. 


Copyright © William Robinson | Year Posted 2005


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Passion's Color

Examine your surroundings, most importantly their hue, for I recall a day when setting sun hung in the fire of a neon sky and blazed an orange red. What imperceptible thread held it there above our heads like a paradigm of passion suspended for all time! Even now, years later, I draw that moment out and bask in it again. . . and over again. Also I remember how that serpent came from nowhere and slithered terra cotta in the sand around our feet. I believe he was exponential (in a Biblical sense) of what we soon would lose - our innocence - as afternoon slipped into an iridescent dusk. The colors of that dusk bursting and sizzling like our steamy summer love, primarily in nuances of lust, flowed scarlet over us in the color of a crimson which was cardinal as sin. Then to the screams of gulls and to the crash of waves, I writhed beneath a surge of heat and his face. . . that glowed with desire. Only at the beach was I ever to know such splendor. . . there with my first love and there with the sun, where it burned out. This is one of my older poems in which I was trying to capture the feeling of passion using some words that were given as a challenge to me. I ended up writing something that I felt was one of my better free verse poems. It was posted here so long ago ( 7/15/2010) that I would like to resurrect it now for Gregory R. Barden's 'The Poet's Fire' Contest


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010


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Skipping Stones

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skipping stones across the still quite waters 

While as enclosed within these submerged thoughts....

Pondering this blanket of fogful mist alongst the path, have I tread and beared

As in time as in life as of recent days

Allowing shadows their moments somehow, someway?!

Lost amid the backwards brush of a translations, understanding....

Interpretations tattood upon my heart like an inverted crossing

Blood drenched quills soaked in cardinal red

Etched upon the caverns walls of what should have been said

These words this verse a world and then!?  

Skipping stones from my very own Souls bleeding wounds 

In gushing currents caught to seep through this they rent

Poisoned dreams; saturated walls aneath ripplings effects....

Rising dunes across quicksand deserts born in the mires; deeper and deeper

Into sedations daze as the storm clouds quickly gather above

Translations from these interpretations of, so called love?!

But how could this be and why I ask myself again

As the undertow of riptides begin to draw them in; further, into their sin...

Blood atop the pages to be extracted this breath of life

Life, that I have longed to embrace; to present

Spilled until its love had morphed into something bent!? 

Stepping back from the edge now, upon this mountains cliff

The valley below amid chasteless darkness beckoning unto my Spirit

Calling from beyond; enticing tongues soaked in the stillness of, cortege red....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

....“Skipping Stones” ~


Copyright © John Rhinem | Year Posted 2012


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Love's Flower

If love could have a color, I suppose it wouldn’t be just any common shade. I’d name it for the colors of the rose. In heaven’s hues this flower is arrayed! From chaste love’s hush of pink to heady rush that’s shown by cardinal or crimson red, the rose reveals the grades of ardor’s blush unto the time it’s thought that passion’s fled. But in the tint of amaranth, the fire endures; in purple deep it can transcend, while yellow blooms in bliss that does not tire, and white’s fidelity will have no end. Like flowers, we as mortals all will die. But memories, which our lives are full of, live on like roses' hues in our mind's eye, and in each bright color, the rose is love. 8/12/2016


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016


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Battle of the Seasons

From the north he came nimbly in the night
	Softly silently bombing blanketing buds

Saturating each single stem
	Snowy sneak attack barraging bombarding bark

Wracking white war-like wonder
	With relentless wrath and rage

Cardinal calling watching in wonder
	Bright crimson claret buried between alabaster boughs

Chipmunk and squirrel shell-shocked
	By snowy shrapnel scamper to shelter

Relentless yet irrelevant retreating rush
	Futile effort from frosty frothy forces

Spring stands inescapable
	Flowers and flakes conflicted

Spring snowflake and spirea stand strong
	Bravely bearing banners high

As if to say, try as you may
	Your day has passed ‘tis spring at last

Ol’ man winter wanes wails and warns 
	I shall seize the season someday soon …




Inspired by the 5”- 6” snowfall we have on March 26, 2011
after we had 80 degree weather last week.



Copyright © jeff eklund | Year Posted 2011


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Birds of Youth Released

My sweetest cravings, fledglings in a nest,
were held up high; into the air released
by eager hands of mine.  A world to test
was mine before youth’s wishing time had ceased.

The birds who have come back to visit me
are well-remembered dreams that have come true.
The pleasant yellow finch; the chickadee
and skylark gave me nothing I should rue.

The cardinal would warble in my ear.
I yearned for him, but he did not stay long.
The bluebird too I hoped to always hear.
She comes and goes.  At times I hear her song.

But long forgotten wishes to grow older
are sparrows at my door as life grows colder.



For the Contest: Pen a Sonnet on It


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012


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* Imagine.... ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reformations amities amid poetics tour de force overture within, virtuoso's....

Fatalisms exuberant pas de deux; foreordained this ballet in exquisites verse

To cross dimensions of spatial extent; the new promised frontier?!

Paragons quintessential interludes gracing the paramouric stages

Amid divinities design a birth, borne upon the canvas of touchstone time....

Fantastic phenomena; parting these cosmic curtains in yesteryears ambivalence

Watersheds cardinal red moment in predestined manifestations crossing thresholds

Parallel spheres once bound by catharsises hand crafted crucibles reasons!?

Eclipsed, from limbo to be carried unto Eden; loves, eternal cats cradle palms....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

.... * “Imagine” ~


Copyright © John Rhinem | Year Posted 2011


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dead red cardinal

dead red cardinal swarmed by sugar ant workers.... cat's supper consumed


Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2013


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Call Me Home



You are the river running through 
unfathomable greens
glassy yellows 
down in the core of the river
flicker lightness on top
You increase me…swell me…impregnate without word or deed
push me to the fore till my sail fills with your carbon 
a deep blue undertow …rip tidian 
only moderate and full…like a plate of food...of vegetables …of fruit…of corn
You are the dark brown peat from which I absorb minerals 
vitamins … steel ...magnesium…sulfate
the pillow of my essence’s rest in your name …hurricane 
You fall on me
Wash off delusion
And I am a small green thing …a fine rooted thing 
Small leaves of me stretch for your chloroformian shadows
My roots dig deep 
hear your drum beat in the equatorial regions of the flaming core
I bend around the rocks …look under ever beetle’s shimmering skin 

in all things you can be found
Amorous and craving …a magma surface of tension and sun
in tree tops …dark places 
in the dark alleys 
You are the blue jay…the cardinal but also the raven 
the oak knows you too well…the west wind too and swells up in my skirts…my cottons
my downy …my linen …my lead
you stand … your hands on your hips 
look out over the possibilities 
hungry for returns
I echo 
Light housing across ….a sound burst 
a wave in a vast universe of waves ..so many 
too many waves

but you will hear me
Master of my heart 
lover of my flesh and bone…my fat ..my thinness…my crispness…my luxury
You will hear …what no one else will ever know
and call it home


Copyright © Ingrid Showalter Swift | Year Posted 2014


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Cardinal On The Bough

Cardinal On The Bough
Flashing Crimson In The White
He Takes Flight In Fog


Copyright © Christopher Bunton | Year Posted 2011


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Just For You

Heavy steel blue clouds dominate 
The morning sky before day
A cool but dampness fills the air
Out on the porch to stay

A short while to enjoy the view
Before the sun rise red
To hear the crickets sing their tune
And roosters' song some dread

A Cardinal chirps to his mate
Songs of love at daybreak
Magenta coats horizon's clouds
Beautiful ~ no mistake

The Master Artist strokes earth's canvas
With colors of his design
Man can try to duplicate them
Given a lifespan of time

Beauty for just a few minutes
Then swish nature's scene's changed
Cobalt blue clouds hang suspended
As fog floats 'pon the range  

Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Contest: Submit A Poem, Any Theme ((In The Moment))


Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2013


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Backyard Party

Blue Jays and Black birds and half a dozen squirrels.
Sprinkled with Sparrow's, it's become quite a world.
Occasional Cardinal to add a little spice.
They seem to all be getting along fairly nice.

The neighbor, he feeds them plenty of food.
It seems it is working, they've become quite a brood.
As long as the house is buttoned up tight.
They're not a problem, I sleep fine at night.

Out in the front, a chipmunk does play.
Scurrying around and having it's way.
A Robin or two might ruffle their feathers.
I wouldn't change a thing if I had my druthers.

It feels like I'm blessed to have such a mess.
Nothing to do but enjoy it, I guess.
God certainly does have mysterious ways.
How he shows us his love in these warm summer days.


Copyright © robert johnson | Year Posted 2012