THE BOY & THE BLUE BIRD

I want to see your secrets,
the things you've hidden up high
& out of sight.

Little bird,
let my autumn shed your tree,
let me lay down its thistle crown
of crimson leaves.

I wish to see
your nest,

sacred chapel of twigs & grass,
the place you go
when you seek retreat
from song & sea-sky,

hidden home
in which you rest,
undress,
confess your sins
when no one else
is watching.
-Grant Chemidlin