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Against the grey and rainy skies, a male cardinal bounces from point to point this morning. His red is so red against the bland and evenly-lighted neighborhood.
He is as assured as sunlight, now perched on a black telephone wire, now diving into space to travel fifty or seventy-five feet to a bush which he enters with the same ease an old woman might her chosen church.
He is what is -- the embodiment and reality of the bullshit line, "failure is not an option." He does not look over his shoulder, perhaps because cardinals have no shoulders or perhaps because looking back is not an option. Success and failure are for mere mortals. My observations cannot inform, improve or deter him.
He is cardinal ... end of story.
Sometimes I wonder why it is that the world cries out for teachers when there are cardinals sitting on telephone lines.
Hot damn!
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