The cardinal struts proudly with dashing scarlet feathers,
Refusing to fly south despite the inevitable weather.
For if anyone could ward off this ancient time of snow,
Why, the cardinal could- or didn’t you know?
Mocking the mockingbirds for their wise retreat,
Desiring to join the passel of fools he saw as elite.
None of his peers found the geese to be as silly as this goose,
Squawking clever insults while he fumbled for an excuse.
The cardinal, with his head hung low, flew south the next spring,
For while some traditions are obsolete, others are worth following.
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