Two lone feathers on shallow snow.
The birds have flown, much of the cold and ice now gone.
male above, female below
Of all who visit here on days filled with flakes and gray, I love the Cardinals best.
Their brightness through the snowy veil, striking.
The central stone others cluster around.
In the field beyond the yard, I found the tracks of a hawk,
touching down for just one step--and gone again.
His prey lifted, without a mark, to the air.
That he should strike with such precision assures me they felt nothing.
But still--
take them quickly, the pretty birds.