On This Frozen Ash Wednesday Morning

 

They are both calling, a 
duet of sorts, two species
in conversation. Or perhaps three,
my own soul responding 
as I enter in, as I breathe a sigh
of relief at their song
on this grey and
frozen morning, before 
the next round of snow.

Communion between cardinal
and wren. Between them and me.
Between God and them and me
and all that is on this
bright and frozen morning,
before the next
round of snow.