Cardinals

The brief chill

suspends all things in rime --
leaf and vine,
               pine needle
and stone nook

             where water

often trickles  down
into a sponge  of moss  -- the holy green

 in late Autumn

cushioning the  fall
               of  hard rain
                     

or the  long day

on its knees from news
the wind delivered.

A shroud of frost

drapes the garden and still
there’s momentum

              in the ancient pines.

A sudden flare of wings  - blood red
among the many arteries
of bark.  Song birds sent

and pumped into brilliant

palpitation
            by an Unseen Hand.