Some cultures believe that cardinals are a connection to the spiritual world.

The visitor arrives,
red plumage glistening
from an evening shower.
Cardinal knows my name
and can negotiate the space
between the sill and the window.
Perched with wisdom,
awaiting direction.
“Not now,” I say.
“Not now.”
He always comes at dusk,
talking to the wind
and to the stars blinking their way
into my existence,
beckoning me to the outside
to my ancestors,
imploring me to enjoy
my time on earth
or he will come back
to remind me
that there is always room.

Poem by Beth Curran

I have been teaching high school English for 21 years and strive to incorporate poetry into the daily lives of young people in order to help them cope with their daily struggles and questions about life. My poetry focuses on the everyday struggles and mysteries of being a woman, a wife, a mother, and a New England girl at heart.

Photo by Harvey Reed