Age Rating: 10 +
I saw a cardinal perched, full frontal and red.
I tried to frame it as it fled from sight,
Leaving bare the bottomless unlidded air
Punctured with thin, sharp staccato beeps,
Beeping, dotting for me like Morse code
The blank air and studding the sky with Braille.
I am thrown by the crow's searing shriek,
The woodpecker's drilling into a patient tree,
The owl hooting Who! from a bending branch.
Slipping off a string of sounds,
I segue to the concert hall and wonder why
Beethoven's Third is "humbly heroic,"
Or Brahm's First "poignant and stoic,"
Leaving poor Bartok "atonal and flat."
Sifting through the list of performers--
The players and patrons marching on--
I sit enmeshed in the interpretive mess,
Amid the dissonance of criticism;
All the while, the Cardinal just calls,
Content I just sit back and listen.