— glimpse of a bluebird gathering nest liner

Mirabile dictu! ...But
doesn't he know? — But
how could he know; and what
better thing could he do
if he did know than live ,
than be this diminutive
brush-stroke of a bird too
fair-weather-azure, too
mantle-of-the-world blue
not to be hope itself —
or happiness, as some
would say — some, old enough
to know neither could stay
beyond a flash or two —
yet that at least — pace
our poisonous Imperium?...