a bluegrey birdblur
alive almost alighting
on a picket as I round the bend
reverses gear and, without landing,
flies off in alarm at the mere sight of me,
then sulks at the top of a distant tree.
At first I’m delighted at any glimpse of birdbeing,
but upon reflection, am miffed.
“What. What ? You don’t like my hat ?!??!!?”
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