Cardinal
by Leah Dietle
*
A vermillion stroke across the canvas above-
before perching on a branch to rest your weary wings.
Your artistry makes others green-
envious of your love affair with the wind which carries you.
*
But my mother looks forward to your arrival-
she searches for your existence outside the window.
She believes as the wind carries you, you carry reunification-
a spiritual messenger from those we lost.
*
To her-
you are the afterglow as her sun sets.
A beautiful melancholy-
a subtle pungent sweetness infused with the dry sharpness of grief.
A pinot grigio for the eyes-
addicted.
*
She feels orphaned now-
pacing in her cage.
When will your vermillion vibrancy grace us?
From which point on the compass of your name shall you arrive?
What did her mother whisper that the wind carries..…
soundless to our ears?
*
I was not there to witness that departure-
a daughter now grown has to uphold her mother.
From the east of my compass-
I searched for your streak of pigment across the canvas.
*
The absence of vermillion engulfs me with blue-
I don’t know why I searched.
*
There are no Cardinals here.
