Poetry by Sam Barbee
The red cardinal, whose head-feathers
have fallen out, sits on the wooden fence.
He notices our yard full of movement, shapes
big and small imparting various shades –
blue sky with white clouds, zinnias.
Dogwood wavers with breeze he does not see.
Motionless, one coarse and knotted branch
cradles the nest he feeds. The birdbath
bends a murky prism, a reflection of scruff
on his grey-red tuft. Unlike full-feathered
finches, and pileated cousins pecking a maple’s trunk,
he can only imagine a proper bonnet of feathers –
not molt or baldness from mites. Not scar
of low-branch wound. Perches content without
storybook color or crest. His grandeur resets
the order. A quest for tranquil, preening wings
on the wooden fence. Sanctified to guard
against squirrels or Cooper Hawk carnage,
he flaps to the nest of hatchlings,
content with reimagined beauty.
Sam Barbee’s newest collection is Apertures of Voluptuous Force (Redhawk Publishing, 2022). He has three previous poetry collections, including That Rain We Needed (Press 53, 2016), a nominee for the Roanoke-Chowan Award as one of North Carolina’s best poetry collections of 2016; he is a two-time Pushcart nominee.
