Through the early budding green

a flash of red.

Swift wings in firey flight

gliding through crooked branches.

Landing effortlessly, soundlessly

on its perch.

He turns his regal, crinson head.

Our eyes meet in greeting.

I witness an almost imperceptible nod.

Once again he soars

and vanishes among the trees.

Leaving me with a smile

and the knowledge

that Spring has surely come again.

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