Cardinals

The first hint of spring,

the cardinals are singing;

there’s a flash of red,


in the budding birch.

It is the male showing off
  
to the fawn female.


She seems hesitant,
 
demure in my presence,

despite my patience.


Not daring to move,

lest I frighten them away,

I wait in stillness,

 
And in that timeless 

moment of impasse,

mysteriously,


my intuitive self

knows exactly what to do ...
 
thus I disappear.


There are cardinals

singing in the budding birch,

and that is enough.