Seed Money

The cardinal is a jagged, red spark

against the gray of the siding and sky.

He lands on the plastic just before dark,

but the plastic is brittle and dry.

The perch gives way with a sudden snap,

dropping him down to the frozen mud.

I’ve left the thing empty, a hollowed-out trap

where the mildew has started to bud.

It’s a fuzzy, gray coat at the base of the bin,

a sign that I haven't been out in a week.

The failure is quiet, it’s under the skin,

and I’m far too tired to speak.