<div class="line">Before she could drink from the garden hose</div>
<div class="line">a cardinal landed on her wrist</div>
<div class="line">and plunged its beak into the clear bubbling.</div>
<div class="line"></div>
<div class="line">She froze in scarlet presence</div>
<div class="line">but managed to gentle the nozzle’s flow.</div>
<div class="line">Never so close to a wild thing,</div>
<div class="line"></div>
<div class="line">she was soaked but held rock-still</div>
<div class="line">as the redbird clung to her wrist</div>
<div class="line">tilting its head up and down</div>
<div class="line"></div>
<div class="line">as it drank, so close she could see</div>
<div class="line">its tiny tongue. There was a song—</div>
<div class="line">whether in her stunned mind</div>
<div class="line"></div>
<div class="line">or from a distant bird, she could not tell.</div>
<div class="line">For a moment nothing died and the winds</div>
<div class="line">lost their ways. The hose chirred</div>
<div class="line"></div>
<div class="line">softly like a night-thing’s call</div>
<div class="line">and she heard the redbird lisping</div>
<div class="line">as it dipped again and again into the spring.</div>


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At the Spring

<p>Dear God<br />please feed<br />the needy<br />raptors<br />with squirrels<br />I can’t see</p><figure class="wp-block-audio"><audio controls src="https://admin.rattle.com/audio/ManningWorld.mp3"></audio></figure>

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August 6, 2011Not My WorldDavid T. Manning

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August 6, 2011Not My WorldDavid T. Manning

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At the Spring by David T. Manning