Cardinal Complaint

I awake with the first rays of light, and after a few minutes, decide to stop resisting beginning the day. I open my Divine Hours and begin reading. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something move. A flash of red. A bouncing tree branch. And a trill of angry bird song assaults my ears. I put down my book and move closer to the window, peering out into the misty morning.

A beautiful cardinal hovers inches from the glass, rising and falling with the motion of the thin branch he is perched on. His song is loud and insistent. I think he is complaining about the rain as today is yet again another gloomy rainy chilly day. I don't blame him. I long for a glimpse of blue, a bit of warmth. I remind myself that it is spring and that's what spring does around here. Lots of rain. I should be grateful it is not snow!

My little warbler keeps it up for some time, flicking his wings when they become water logged, and dancing on the branch, facing first one direction then another, his tail twitching, his eyes darting this way and that. Why doesn't he go somewhere more sheltered, I wonder. Surely there are places he could get out of the rain. Even perching on a window ledge under the overhang of the roof would be less soggy for him. My window ledge is just inches from his little feet. But he does not budge.

How like him I sometimes am. In the midst of trouble pouring down on me, I just sit there and complain rather than do something about it. It's silly, of course. I guess sometimes you just want to yell into the storm. Which is alright I suppose, as long as you don't drown.