The Cardinal Has Some Questions

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I am a cardinal. I sing my song of life.

I am bright red. They say that's what the Badgers wear: cardinal red. I am proud. I sing loud.

I have been here a while now. It was colder when I came, but I stayed. I'm tougher than you think.

What's going on here? Things are different now. Somebody tell me what's up.

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Where has everyone been? I watch as they come out, one at a time now. This street used to be crowded, full of life. They don't smile as often.

There are still some signs. Hopscotch is still played. Kids still draw pictures of fish, of birds like me, of boats, on the concrete. But every time I look, I don't see many.

Something must be wrong. Life is hiding somewhere.

We are not. I am joined by robins and wrens and ravens. Things need cutting now--hair and lawns. Some have done so. Many have not. It looks ragged and unkempt.

People were slow to fill their bird feeders. Hey, that didn't help. We're hungry all the time, you know.

Tulips are up and are lovely. So are the violets. But dandelions are, too, some already white and ready to spread more seeds.

I do not understand. They should be mowed. They get longer by the day, as if no one's left. Part of the neighborhood looks the way it should, part looks like a jungle. Where are the caretakers? Where did they go?

People used to care about it. Now they don't seem to.

I don't, either. I will sing, though. Ooooweeeeee-weet-weet! I sing in trees that now have leaves. Some still do not, but will soon. Do humans come out then? Is that what does it?

I will live. I see some trying.

Some drive by on their bikes now. Some wear masks. I cannot see their faces. But some do not wear them. What does that mean? Are some ashamed? Should some be ashamed?

They walk past book depositories, built like little houses, for those who wish to leave and take some. They are full now, fuller than they have been for some time. It seems as if they have cleaned out supplies they are no longer using. So it is. We will see whether anyone is interested.

I see younger people out and doing what they do. But not so many. It's as if some are careful, some are not. I do not see older folks much. They must be afraid of something.

Does it matter, young or old? Will I see fewer of one and not of another, next spring?

I am confused. Will someone please tell me what's going on?

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Be well. Be careful. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.

Mister Mark