It’s redundant to say
two red cardinals,
 
but their fire inside
the privet’s first buds
 
bears repeating. Spring is
the cruelest month, a man

waking solo for the first time
since Coca-Cola first came in cans.
 
You can’t bottle
happiness or its sad kin.
 
But Spring comes
back in the twin
 
reigns of two
red cardinals.
 
The furnaces of the world
fire up once more.
 
You breathe deep and drink
what the branches pour.