Bright Blue Bird


A bright blue bird
from a distant tree
flies into my house.
When it flies out, it leaves behind
its bright blue.

The blue hops down
becomes first one word,
and then, another,
till finally, it assumes the face of a poem.

Before long, the floor is an upside down blue sky
and the blue of the poem has made its way
into my ink filler,
into my notebook.