Mr. Egret’s Call

Through the screen an unfamiliar wind softly blew.
It is Sunday and the sky is blue because I am blue,
And I cannot think of any other reason for it to be so
Than that! And in my blue, that’s the way it goes.
The canal is low today, and at the bottom I see
Grey sludge that makes the afternoon air hang free.

On the porch, Mr. Egret begs me gently for a snack.
It is Sunday and I am blue, so why not make him clack?
To the beggar’s request, bird-witted, I respond!
Only to find motion in my sudden generosity to bond,
Which unexpectedly pushes me up and out. And losing my disparity,
I find a spot to ponder my blue mixed with avarian charity.

Today I worship in a most unfamiliar place of nature’s law.
Surprised to find joy in blue filled my doubt with awe.
Somehow before the day was done, afore the night did fall,
I thanked Mr. Egret for his call,
Which helped me take the blue of Sunday’s gift to me,
And cast it out upon the sea!