Potential cardinal

This morning brings a day off, and new things to pay attention to.  I consider the range of things I might write about.  So much of the morning writing ritual now asks:  Is this my struggle?  Is this mine to write about?  Now the male cardinal is back in place.  It seems he is mine to consider.  His comings and goings.  I think I see the paler female on a branch up and to the right.  She is nowhere near as flashy.  Of course not, I think.

The family sleeps

Except for me.

The splotch of red

In the back bush branches

Must have been a cardinal.

He was so still,

I considered he might be

A piece of red ribbon

Blown there after Christmas.

When I returned

With the cup of coffee

Warm in my hands,

The branches spare and brown,

Showed no potential cardinal.

But

now

He*s back

He*s back

And behind him,

The ducks march in the sun,

The squirrels play their endless game

Of chase

On the lawn.

While I was distracted

The cardinal flew

Again

Or maybe

He was really

A piece of red ribbon

From a Christmas package

After all.