When the cardinal called out –
his song like drops of light spilling over a dawn field –
I ran outside
that first day of his voice
as Spring’s soft sun
opened the heart of the brisk, grey winds
I ran to answer him
then stopped
astonished
at the tender, naked garden
suddenly uncovered:
after months of snow
the smell of earth
rising to meet the bird’s song.
A Space to be Filled 
Oh, what a lovely subtle sensuality and…earthiness this has, Ellen. (Pun intended, but not in an unserious way, if you know what I mean.) I’m especially fond of how the “Spring’s soft sun / opened the heart of the brisk, grey winds” — followed closely by “his song like drops of light spilling over a dawn field.” But then there’s “the tender, naked garden” which is, quite frankly, just an exquisite word image. Damn. I just like the whole damn thing. 😉
-Lorri
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Lovely…full of promise, hope and excitement!
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