Crusade

Our host drove us up

the highway, pointing

out places to hike while

ragging on the locals.

When it swooped

over the hood, I saw

the black crown

and indigo wings—

a new being. The blue

stark against a gray-

green landscape,

ink and light.

The dipped inverse

of a red-winged

blackbird—a Stellar’s

jay. I threw my

hands at the windshield

to say, “How beautiful!”

and thought myself

the last poet alive

who cared about the birds.