The Blue Bird

We artists are the Blue Bird;
Red chest; we wear the sky as a raiment.
Sell Outs, Marketers, Editors...
They are the Blue Jay
Which dig in their beaks
Wetting our feathers with blood.
They come, knowing only how to consume.
We Blue Birds come, only knowing how
To sing and be beautiful.
Unfettered Nature favors the Blue Jay;
Yet from where I come from
The Blue Jay is a pest
While the Blue Bird is a lovely gift of God's creation.
Build us our little homes
Which the Jays and Crows cannot fit.
For, soon enough we will no longer
Be an endangered species.

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