The Scent of Sound

Did you see him today,
that glamoring cardinal as he flitted the snow
then cocked his head to listen to seeds,

-- just for an instant --

cocked his head at the feeder's base?

I'd never been witness
so gave a hard, steady look.

He fast did it again, then plunged
his head straight, down into white --
tipped back out, held on tight,

one clean morsel of sunflower seed
crunched tight in his snow-flaked beak.

Such an orange and determined mouth,
so pointed, so sure.

How did he listen to smell, I pondered
as my mind quick-traveled
a voyage of wonder:

What smells do I neglect to hear
in my busy, tangled world?

My dog's eager breath? My friends' bouquets,
their softing scents of muted thoughts?

Or is it their quiet joys, their silent sorrows,
I forget to attend in my hassled haste
to settle the day?