I always notice the little things
That make life worth loving.
I see the crimson cardinals
In the bushes beside my house.
But the female cardinals are
Dull.
Why didn’t God light their bodies
Ablaze?
Nature isn’t going to change.
But why do people refuse
To appreciate this world?
I’m guilty of a lot of things.
The cardinal’s wings
Bleed,
Scarlet red feathers
Sewn into
Wounded
Feminine
Bodies.
WILDsound Writing Festival 