i am birdie
i am a figment
i release my words into the world to let them fly
and touch whom they will
i strive not for that perfect metre which will last past the end of the world
i seek only for the stories that give truth to the universe

i know why the sky is blue
how to diagram a sentence
why the square root of two is irrational
i know the stories behind the stars
the sound of a true note
the blankness behind the sparkle in a false lover's eyes
the life-filled spring of ready dough beneath the baker's hands
i know which birds are singing and what they are telling each other
i read the lines on the trees' hands and see the past and the future
no green growing thing holds secrets from me
i have heard the endless waves of sound and song in the deepest forest
and the silence at the heart of the largest city
i know how to weave numbers; i know which words to speak into the tangled innards of machines and bend them to my will
i know why a sound is a sound
why a leaf is green
why the stars flicker
why the world turns and the sun burns

i have been a blue bird in a bluer sky
i have been a lioness, a grey cloud, a reed in the river
a white heron, a silver fish, a clinging net, a sword
an upwelling spring, a tidal wave
i have been a wolf in the woods
and a bright stone in the sand
i have been the mud and the grass
the sun and the moon and each star
a spreading willow and a greedy fire
an egg, a nest, the round eye of a bird
i am old; i am young; i am universal
i am bard; i am the seeker of stories
i am birdie