Published Nature poem about the arrival of spring in the Midwest plains

Flitting from one grassy spot
to another,
the wave of black birds
crossed the fields
and our horse pasture.

The chatter of the
incoming flock
was almost deafening.
Who invited them all
with their noise and motion?
They caused such a ruckus.

In time past,
my dog and I would
have made vain attempts to clear
the fields and the
backyard of these pestering birds.

Today, we just sat and watched,
knowing all too well that with
a momentary turn,
they would flit back to earth and peck
away at the stubble and the
leftover seed from the bird feeders.

It as a chaotic seen of
doves, robins,
sparrows, grackels, and
one cardinal.

His bold redness warmed and softened
the cold grayness around me.
It was this color that dotted the
activity and gave me
hope.

The garden, the backyard,
and surrounding fields
were filled with a sensory overload
of nature's symphony.

The cold scent of the air, the stinging of the wind,
the cacophony of the birds
and the blurred motion of their flight -
It was all I could do to sustain a moment
of peace.

And, yet, I welcomed it all:
the noise,
the constant movement,
and the color of the cardinal.
Spring was long overdue.

My spirits had been
lost in the pools of mud
that filled every low spot in
the yard,
and the cold wind that had lingered far too long.

So, like the cardinal that
sat patiently on the tree limb,
waiting its turn to the hanging feeder,
I sat patiently,
waiting for spring -
for a change in heart and color of my soul.