Nature’s Not Always Kind To The Individual

A little more red in this poem

Photo by William J Spirdione

Don’t look out in the middle of the street.
Left splattered on the double yellow line
a golden road with feathers, red crushed meat
a beak, an outstretched claw, in bright sunshine.

This cardinal, it didn’t have a chance
won’t fly back to our feeder, gone to stay.
A tear drop falls. His mate still in a trance.
Her nestlings hatch on this auspicious day.

William J Spirdione 2023

If you have a little time, please read Pseu Pending (Seu)’s wonderful rant and poem…

Your Poetry is Too White! Where’s the Fire Alarm?

Thank you, Seu, for pointing out the sickening sweetness of some of our art. Sometimes I can’t help it.