The Winter
waking up you see
sitting on a snow-covered tree
a cardinal, red and warm
his beak is yellow
his eyes are bright
he ruffles his feathers and takes flight
father frost blows
on your window pane
with his pattern, leaves a stain
all the trees
look like glass
but there's an emptiness
snuggled up under covers
not wanting to leave you bed
you try to get out, but jumping back in
you huddle up and sigh
you try again; you shiver
you put on your slippers