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Tall in the garden a single rose
tosses its head as the cool wind blows.
A cardinal, red as the rose is pink,
stops at a saucer, takes a drink
and treats the air to a fluting song.
Autumn is coming; it won’t be long,
mixing its palette of flame and gold
— before its fingers become too cold
and the rose and the bird and the song too old.

Cardinal (bird) and berries