The place has its regulars. They come in shifts,
more or less, the little ones first, chattering
their hellos from the bare branches of the lilac
as I scatter seeds and sing my morning song,
then the woodpecker and the jays. The cardinal
had vanished for a while after the cafe closed
when I went on an October vacation. But lately
he’s been showing up from time to time.
I’m always so happy to see him.
I have a special space for him in my heart.
When I rose this morning, to my surprise,
snow covered the ground and the thermometer
read exactly 0 degrees. I opened the cafe
even before I had my coffee, and they fluttered in,
sweet dears, the instant that they spotted me.
Half an hour later, I glanced out the window
as I dished up bacon and eggs, and there,
more surprising than the morning snow,
a dozen cardinals had gathered, more
than I have ever seen at one time before,
at least half of them bright males, bobbing
down from the lilac, the females huddling
on the rocks in the new-fallen snow,
feasting together as if it was Christmas.