The Chaotic Misdemeanors of Bluejay One

 A green tea bag is baking cold out on my porch

A piece of gray rock from the quarry wanted to be torched

Whipped cream pecks your cheeks with specks and flecks of blue

Your mother called; she said don’t worry about you

The chickens in the yard scratch and scream and doubt

Wrought wind twists and spins and grasps and pulls and gives up with a shout

A moment’s notice of a day brought coffee to your door

Beaten rays of sun shine down more golden than before

I wove a web of broken bones and islands cast astray

A dying town gave up it’s crown to send lost words my way

A strand of birch bark wished for dewdrops, not fire but for rain

The urgent embrace of mossy white lace makes it all the same

A strand of unrelated texts was sent to me by him at gym one noon

Your eyebrows have overgrown like a peacebird for a boon

A beach ball bounced across the ground and out to sea at last

A bud of colt’s foot sprang up too late; the moment had passed

So be the trees, the honey bees, the aging cheese, the moon

The thickets and the thrushes have got to be somewhere soon.