Inside, I hang my coat on a peg.
Outside, the sky restores itself,
reflects on nothing, gathers
a cloud, dismantles another.
As I left, a cardinal lit
on the cherry tree. In her world
only the male is red. Red,
like cherries, or whatever
skin I shed when passing
through one door or another.
Image: Aaron Doucett on Unsplash
Published: William and Mary Review, Issue 60, Spring 2022
Sweet and Bitter Greens 