in silence, when the ache
of my plainness seems
to flare up anew,
that same tawny female
cardinal harkens, with the crest
of her head
and the shape of her tune
arcing to form
an arrow pointing—
like the flame of a candle
to show me what to do.
I can only surmise
that the meekest among us
might be the bearers,
not of burdens, but pardons—
for who would have guessed
such a small tongue of light
could lick away such
a preponderance of darkness?
