Cavity Nester

Eye to eye with a mountain bluebird,
Feathers exactly matching the sky,
Grey feet and black eyes matching bare twigs

Like these lines on which it now perches,
Looking right at you, yes it means you,
Even though you have no idea why.

You don’t expect small birds to be bold.
You don’t expect them to inspect you
Up close, seeming to demand something

In the way of a response from you.
Respectfully, you’re supposed to spot
Them at a distance and contemplate

The aesthetics of their poetry,
The pathos of their experience
Of a precarious existence.

This one just wants to consider you,
As if you were the one to be read,
As if eggs could nest snug in your head.