Two Red Cardinals
It’s redundant to say two red cardinals, but their fire inside the privet’s first buds bears repeating. Spring is the cruelest month, a man waking solo for the first time since Coca-Cola first came in cans. You can’t bottle happiness or its sad kin. But Spring comes back in the twin reigns of two red cardinals. The furnaces of the world fire up once more. You breathe deep and drink what the branches pour.