The cardinal came and visited me,
upon the branch of the needling pine
His feathered wings were more orange,
then the bright red upon the top of his head,
I wondered if this bothered my new feather friend,
that he was different and worried about not fitting in
Then from inside he opened his beautiful orange wings,
and flew away, with a cheerful song as night turned to dawn,
with poetry in motion that formed into a poem
As Night Turned to Dawn
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