The Cardinal

A little red flame against the white
a beacon of hope, and of life.
Holding his own against sharp winter knives
waiting for spring to shed her light.

The little red flame against the white
flickers and dies, but then flares up.
Refusing to burn out, refusing to die
wanting to live another night.

The little red flame all by himself
is all alone, but doesn't go out.
Finding the will to endure,
to live to see another spring once more.

But the little red flame supports another;
watching him, he snorts and shudders.
The little red flame's determination
sparks a fire inside the other.

I watch the little red flame flutter,
and to myself I think and wonder.
If humans were like the little red flame
the world might live a little longer.