The Cardinal and His Song
The cardinal sang out when I fumbled for my phone
and for the first time I connected this bird
with that song. It was like I learned a new word, like a light —
I didn’t get a picture of the cardinal.
He crossed the street for another tree. Wait,
there’s something missing in this story.
Let me go back and start over.
My father never told us he loved us. He could not speak those words.
Now, I’ll know the cardinal by his song. Okay,
this is just one part of the story that was missing:
until you know something you have no idea —
If we said I love you, my father would say, Right back at you.
Until the day he died we hoped he’d say … I’m sorry,
but part of this story is still missing. For a moment
on the sidewalk when I connected
the cardinal with his song I wondered,
is this what could have been? This felt like
walking on the edge of an envelope so I’m afraid
I just added a little blood to this story.
Make no mistake. From here on out I will know him
by that song.
What else have I missed?
Hold on. Let me go back. I think I need to start over.