In the morning when you finally go
And the nurse runs in with her head hung low
And the cardinal hits the window

In the morning in the winter shade
On the first of March, on the holiday
I thought I saw you breathing

Dear cardinal,

We’re sorry you’ve already migrated back here. We thought it would be spring here by now, too. Please be patient. Maybe in a couple weeks it won’t be so dreary around here.

Signed,

Eagerly awaiting spring in Atlanta.