06/01/2026
A child and a cardinal, side by side in the moonlight —
the child round and small, the bird precise and still.
They are not looking at each other.
The moon is above them both.
I have been to the grocery store this week
and a restaurant
and a meeting
and a birthday party where everyone laughed
and I laughed too, which is its own kind of vertigo.
Because underneath every ordinary thing
is the thought that arrives without knocking:
you should still be here for this.
You should still be at the table.
But tonight — the child sits in the blue light and the cardinal sits close enough to be a second kind of company.
The moon is full and slightly obscured by cloud —
as if it is trying not to be too much at once.
The bird has that quality too: present without insisting.
You should still be here.
I think it every time.
The cardinal has heard me think it.
It has not flown away.
— Angels Are Near