blackbird online journal spring 2002 vol.1 no. 1

POETRY

ELLEN BRYANT VOIGT | The Feeder

7.

Late March: glazed over, here,
don't go near Virginia—

that stab of forsythia, cherry weeping,
redbud smeared on the hill,

and perched in my sister's dogwood,
seven elegant cardinals, each

wearing a crown like something
it had earned, and trumpeting.

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