A cardinal dressed in finest coat of red
sought respite from its flight through swirling snow,
for many miles of journey lay ahead
through frozen blasts of winds that fiercely blow.
As winter's frigid breath o'er chilled world spread
to paralyze great rivers' mighty flow,
this tiny bird found peace in moment's pause
before it flew into the blizzard's jaws.
As flakes fell faster on his crimson crest,
I worried as I watched his trembling form
and wondered if he'd reach his waiting nest,
a sanctuary from the raging storm.
I offered prayers his precious life be blessed,
that he find welcome shelter, safe and warm,
then prayed for all who must this winter roam
without the comfort of a cordial home.
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Author Notes
card/nel is pronounced with two syllables in this poem
The ottava rima is a poem in verses of 8 lines, each in iambic pentameter, with a rhyme scheme of ABABABCC DEDEDEFF.
Yesterday, at the shelter where I serve breakfast, a regular client, a man about 60 who has severe mental health problems, came through the line, mumbling about the Korean War and his usual set of concerns. I've noticed before how bent his hands are from arthritis, but this time, they were also a deep red, and the tip of one thumb was totally black.
I alerted the staff, who were going to follow up to see if it was gangrene or frostbite. I have to ask why a man in his fragile mental and physical health is roaming out in the cold. Are we really prepared to let him fend for himself like a cardinal in the wild and only find momentary respite in a day shelter that offers a bowl of oatmeal and a couple hours of seating in a heated room?
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