i.
the cardinal sudden like words
from a friend, bright unexpected
against leafless sky, same sweet
song and soul-balm
ii.
not faith but a kind of pride, your belief
every day should offer something
like this dirt finally warming,
hand-crumbled, enough?
iii.
if the pansies survive
this record cold, it is no god’s bow
to the balance due, nor even
to your impatience