Bird in the Mesh
Like light on the water,
a thrill is always closer than it should be,
the buzzing blindness of wings beating just overhead
As light, as sure as a taste
a wren touches down lower than it should be,
tossling the ruffled-feather tops of blueberry bushes
Its pinched flight beneath the net now a nervous, jerky chore,
now fully stuck with what it’s stolen.