The Bird Sings for Me
Marc Livanos
​
Between the sun and shade,
a cardinal replete in pointed hat
pecks and flutters about
seeking to thrust at some worm
withering on sodden ground.

He takes three gawky steps,
stops, looks down, walks
some more, sees me and stares.
I turn my head and slink away.

Feeling a kindred spirit, he chirps
talkatively, almost in syllables,
like a newspaper boy hawking the news --
Round-Up turned my friend blue,
spraying makes me sick,
you make too much noise.

Then, he alights to a nearby statute
where like an Officer on Deck, he trills --
it’s too hot to scavenge for food,
climate change is taking its toll
and when’s the sprinkler coming on.
​
I thought of questions that have no reply
but he was already perched on a branch
staying cool to gather his thoughts
ready to share with those nearby.