Chris, Untitled, 2014
Was it real? That bird, it passed
right in front of me—deep blue,
too big to be a bunting, I’m sure,
not a jay (no crest no white flash.)
Seeing is not believing, seeing as
how no one else saw it, and I’m
no birder. But: blue as a twilit sky,
sidelong gold-flecked glance then
pulling, pulling long deep shadows
behind, across the creek to home.
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