Love & Lovers, Cardinals and Mockingbirds
Posted: July 30th, 2010, 12:06 pm
A Lover's Fable
His wings as red
as a British soldier's tunic
at the charge of the Light Brigade,
I watched him dance along the branches
of the big pecan,
taunting the mockingbird
with martial song and trill,
summer-full of himself, black cockaded head
alert for squirrel and cat--
Until that frantic afternoon I found him
dragging one wing along the ground,
feathers crumpled dusty pink.
I lifted him, his light body hot against my palm,
and carried him home with me
to a painted cage.
Time passed and his wing seemed
as strong as ever --
but I loved my redbird,
and when once or twice he sang,
I could not bear to open the cage.
The weeks passed, a lifetime to a small caged songbird.
But it was so sweet to have
this exotic creature for me alone!
Then, one day,
a mockingbird flicked past the window,
and I went to the porch and opened
the door of the painted cage.
The cardinal fluttered past me to the railing,
testing his wings,
lifting them to the leaf-tattered sunlight.
In a joyous burst of motion, he hurled himself
into the cool clean air of morning
and flew away.
Once I was like that cardinal.
I too was hurled to the ground,
left stunned and vulnerable,
lost to my element.
We were from such different worlds, you and I;
yet, when you found me, you lifted me tenderly,
took me away from remembered pain,
and put me in a cage of words.
You can no longer fly, you told me,
Your wings won't hold you.
I want you here, with me.
Until, one day,
through carelessness, or guilt. . . or indifference,
you left the cage door open
and I found my strength
and flew away.
His wings as red
as a British soldier's tunic
at the charge of the Light Brigade,
I watched him dance along the branches
of the big pecan,
taunting the mockingbird
with martial song and trill,
summer-full of himself, black cockaded head
alert for squirrel and cat--
Until that frantic afternoon I found him
dragging one wing along the ground,
feathers crumpled dusty pink.
I lifted him, his light body hot against my palm,
and carried him home with me
to a painted cage.
Time passed and his wing seemed
as strong as ever --
but I loved my redbird,
and when once or twice he sang,
I could not bear to open the cage.
The weeks passed, a lifetime to a small caged songbird.
But it was so sweet to have
this exotic creature for me alone!
Then, one day,
a mockingbird flicked past the window,
and I went to the porch and opened
the door of the painted cage.
The cardinal fluttered past me to the railing,
testing his wings,
lifting them to the leaf-tattered sunlight.
In a joyous burst of motion, he hurled himself
into the cool clean air of morning
and flew away.
Once I was like that cardinal.
I too was hurled to the ground,
left stunned and vulnerable,
lost to my element.
We were from such different worlds, you and I;
yet, when you found me, you lifted me tenderly,
took me away from remembered pain,
and put me in a cage of words.
You can no longer fly, you told me,
Your wings won't hold you.
I want you here, with me.
Until, one day,
through carelessness, or guilt. . . or indifference,
you left the cage door open
and I found my strength
and flew away.
