Haiku Friday

I can't seem to show
my children the cardinals
frequenting our trees.

Catching a glimpse of
the male's outrageous scarlet,
I look for his mate.

She's harder to see
in winter's bare branches. "Come
see the cardinals, "

I say. By the time
faces press to windows, he's
moved and now hidden.

My marker gone, I
fail at showing the female,
a calm brown perched close.

"I can never find
the girl. She's so plain," one cries.
She is almost right.

The female is a
waning dusk, or the bright light
of a gray morning,

or a tangle of
stripped branches. She is subtle,
lovely, faithful, there.

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