The Cardinal Poem by John Myshkoff
The Cardinal
Rating: ★5.0
The drab wooden mailbox
Crumbles unnoticed,
Its flecking paint tossed aside
By an unkind breeze.
Azalea bushes hide
The lowly box,
Tired,
Uneasy on its post.
A faded red flag
Shabbily signals pick up,
The warped door
And ragged cedar roof
No longer interest
Other birds for perching.
Yet, the cardinal returns
Singing proudly
In the sun.
Saturday, July 16, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: observation
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5/6/2024 3:47:10 AM # 1.0.0.1119
In my not always so humble opinion The Cardinal is what a poem should be. Those subtle yet fantastic observations make for a universe of poetic wonder. Before and far beyond the mailbox. I am glad that I was fortunate enough to see the red flag on the paint flecked box and stopped to pick up this tiny treasure......splendid.