The Blue Jay
Five finches idle
on the rim of the birdbath.
One preens a shoulder, feigns disinterest.
Another dips his beak, takes a quick sip.
Two lift from the edge but only swap perches.
A red chested male finally takes the plunge
and jumps right back out.
The others eye him, step aside in respect.
They wait to see who’s next.
A blue jay, impatient,
swoops down from above,
tearing leaves, scattering the finches.
It lands on the bath, looks around,
throws itself into the bowl, flapping and splashing,
hurling water on the ground below,
then rising into the tree to shake off the drops,
before crashing down again, and again,
bound to a bottomless joy.
Jean Ryan 