I saw a bold red cardinal, quick and slight As the last spark out of an erstwhile fire, Dart from his dead and native tree for flight, Dodging the deadly voltage of a wire To heights that let a bird’s eye view the road Wrapped tight as a huge boa round his wood In which a dark, continual winter showed On a few boughs where greener summer should. Onward I wandered down the well-paved track With faltering limbs, not knowing why, and soon The forestland had a sameness of black And a slow growing thirst had parched me weak. I tripped and saw, with paper and glass bestrewn, The former river creep as a low creek.