Cardinals In The Snow

I Want To Write About Microwave Ovens, And The Fact
That I Have A Deep And Abiding Mistrust Of Men.
I’m Always Careful To Stay At Least 6 Feet From Their
Death Rays And Wonder If I Should Even Eat
The Damn Popcorn…ponder That.

I Want To Write About The Fact That Nothing I Can Possibly
Say Will Mean Anything To Anyone In 100 Years, And That
I’m Ok With My Words Drifting Aimlessly Toward The Sky.
I Like To Think The Moon Swallows Them And Then Says,
“that Was Delicious, But In An Hour I’ll Be Hungry Again.”

I Want To Write About Guilt And Redemption,
But So Far I’m Not Finding Any Salvation For My Sins.
If I’m Honest And Say, “i’m Experiencing This, And It’s
Not Fixable And It Feels Really Bad.” Does That Make Me
Weak Or Strong? Does It Make Me Anything?

I Want To Write About God, Or The Lack Thereof,
Or The Misinterpretation Of Whatever Message It Was That
We Were Given, But I Wouldn’t Want To Be Misquoted.
I’ll Say A Prayer Instead, Something Along The Line,
“hey You, If You’re There Would You Mind Lending A Hand? ”

I Want To Write About Red And Brown Cardinals On Icy Branches,
Waking Up To The Silence Of An Early Winter Storm, The Reflection Of
A Yellow Sled On White Snow, Delicate Flakes Covering My Hair With A Frosty Veil,
And How I’m Afraid Your Words Will Disappear, So I Write Them.
But In An Hour, I’m Hungry For More

More Shayari by Asking A Bluebird
03 Sep 2008 No Comment

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