Pretty Blue Bird

Through the air

branch to branch,

he follows

his blue bird.

She glides past,

silent wings,

a song he cannot reach.

One more stretch,

one soft hope

vanished.

In the hush,

he learns:

worth is not measured

by return.

The wind may shift,

and somewhere ahead,

a new song waits.

Reviews

[Ms claws]

Hi. I'm not going to diagnose. I'm just going to comment that I like the poem a lot.

[PaleWriter]

Thanks Eternity. That means a lot.

[Patricia Wedel]

Love has many Venues... there was a Spring when Seven Bluebirds sat on Branches of our Tree''' it was an Omen of Blessings. softly, Pat

[PaleWriter]

Thanks for the comment, Pat.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I think that takes a reckoning to figure out that we are not the fault of a failed relationship.
Maybe our best wasn't good enough, or maybe our choices were misaimed.
But when leaves us alone...we are not of lesser value...
we just weren't on the same plane as the other....
j.

[PaleWriter]

True words. Thanks for the comment, J.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

You must be more than a somewhat occasional observer of nature. I love the way you used the bluebird as a metaphor for the greater lesson of patience and confidence. I have a little crystal bluebird I keep on a shelf. It reminds of Spring. Great write.

[PaleWriter]

I'm glad you liked it, thanks.