Eggs and the Cardinal

A cardinal
Clad in bright
Scarlet feathers
Perched on a rail
This morning
Beyond my kitchen window.

His sharp singular chirp
Followed by another
Another
Then a successive chain
Of others
Drilled my brain
As an awakener
Forcing me to look beyond
My morning coffee
And the eggs frying in the skillet.

His Mohawk-trimmed head
Turned in quick jerks
Until a tiny black eye
Seemed to connect
With my own eyes.
We studied each other
For several moments.
Maybe he thought my actions
Strange
When understood against
The context of
Cardinal mannerisms.

It is not necessary
To understand
That which is simply meant
As marvelous.

The cardinal hopped a bit
Along the fence rail
A light wind playing
Along the layers
Of his crimson feathers.

He seemed to nod
As though to wish me well
(Though I know that is just my opinion)
Then he took flight
Seeking anything
More interesting.

Perhaps he was disturbed
By my choice
Of eggs
For breakfast.
Or maybe he was showing off
His ability to fly.
Or he may have been embarrassed
Strutting
For an old guy
In boxer shorts and a tee shirt.

His gallant red slash
Against a blue denim sky
Was breakfast for my soul.

Nevertheless
I ate the eggs.