Where the Shadows Grow
The cardinal,
red crest capping
its head as flame,
hops from branch
to branch,
rising
through the thorns
with the confidence
of fire,
rising
from the dark weave,
into the air
under the pine trees
where the shadows grow.
Twitter: @summerspoet
Editor’s Note: Somehow, this poem manages to embody both a dread of terrible events, and the flame that keeps hope alive. Perhaps that is too much explication for an imagistic poem and a single bird, but current events always seem to inform my perception.
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