(READ ALL TIM LABBE POEMS)
Atop a barren
dogwood branch,
midst the bleak,
winter gray-
a cardinal’s song
chimed out
as brightly as the red
he adorned that day
Stillness of a bitter cold
snow-white,
stifled all
but he.
His chest
bulged boldly
as he sang full
with giddy-glee
Matter not
the gloominess
of the day,
for he sang
with utter joy,
knowing it wasn’t
the surroundings
which brought about his happiness-
but the gift of song
that he jubilantly employed.
by
Tim Labbe
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