The cardinal comes at dawn.
His spiky silhouette backlit against a copper sky, the bare branches of our backyard woods his amphitheatre.
He is the first one to sing, heralding the coming of a new day. The moon is still up too, hanging opposite the sunrise, its silver essence shimmering in a sea of pale blue.
Rising early after a fretful night of sleep, I am grateful to have found this moment, for I am looking for the light, and I’m sure you are too.