Where the Jaybird Sits
Her timing couldn’t be better
as she sets atop the aged bark cylinder
lifting my gaze from muddy feet,
shedding light upon my darkness
and extracting a madness so rooted
and content in its home.
There the jaybird sings beautifully;
her rich, subtle tweet and soft brown eyes.
There she is my friend, perhaps, the only one
on this grey and showering day-
where no one is or will be.
Just me, dirty-toed,
and my animal friend.