In the side view mirror of my car,
A cardinal attacked his reflection.
His opponent returned each blow
With timing of pure perfection.
The cardinal's fury mounted
To a stage beyond seeing red.
He would not cease his attack
Until his foe was gone or dead.
Yet for every thrust of his beak
His enemy gave the same.
The more he pummeled and pushed,
The closer his enemy came.
Scratches on metal and glass
Were proof of the fiercely fought war,
As were the sticky remains
The bird dropped on window and door.
How often do you and I
Make the cardinal's mistake
And fight a reflection of us
And leave a mess in our wake?