At Quittie Creek

Yesterday
the most incredible thing
happened to me.

I don't know why
it landed in my lap.

I fear telling you,
speaking it out, 
may weaken it.

I saw a woman
sitting
        stock
               still,
pure and holy,

motionless as I was,
both of us transfixed
by a crisp flock
of crimson cardinals,
the most I have ever seen
in one spot.

For five minutes 
I watched them
before even noticing
         her.

A mystic
right under my very nose
so still,
         so
             very
                 still 
on the opposite creek bank
that I'm still not convinced
          she was real.

To share knowledge of her
is to profane some holy mystery.

And yet
I am compelled to tell you
she exists

Crosslegged in the snow
under a grove of bamboo,
a basket in one hand,
the other upturned.

The cardinals
swoop closer and closer
and

I saw one
          almost brave enough
          to land.



1/29/22

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