NPM: Fresh Glory

Two cardinals hopped

Through the budding branches

Of my Japanese maple today

A mated pair

And I was transfixed

By the color of the female

Normally, the males are revered

For their vivid red hue

So bright and unusual

But her tones were subdued

And sublime

The colors of the dawn

Soft cream, pale yellow

And the flush of purest rose

She was the morning sky

The promise of a new day

Unmarred, unsullied

And to me, her subtle beauty

Far outshone her flashy consort

There is fresh glory in the overlooked–

In nature

And in us

NPM: Feet on the Floor

The hardwood floors of my bedroom creak
each morning as I put my feet down
to rise out of bed and start a new day.
Sometimes I groan along with them,
wanting only to turn around,
crawl into my bed,
and stay there.
But day after day,
my feet hit the floor,
the grain rough and solid beneath them.
Because feet are meant to cover ground:
to walk, to leap, to run,
chasing after the setting sun.
But there are days when it feels like the sun won’t rise.
There are days when I’d rather not try.
On those mornings, as I have before,
I convince myself, for one day more,
to put my feet on the bedroom floor.