The cardinal flew across the road
in front of me, a blur of red
but precise in its flight as I added
meaning to the moment,
something about spring, something
about what comes again,
something about the faithfulness
of returning. It could have been
a moment of conversion, my Damascus
road experience. Or simply
a cardinal flying deeper into the woods
to the other side of the road.
-Byron Hoot
No comments:
Post a Comment