He dabs and bows his head, a dapper chap

who cheeps about each day to twit and feed.

He flaunts, and hops and leaves without a map.

–

Some weeks it seems he left or took a nap.

But soon as hope he pops around for seed,

and dabs and bows his head: a dapper chap.

–

He tweaks and twitches: life must be a snap

to birds that flee their problems with their speed.

He flaunts, and hops, and leaves without a map.

–

But who can know the dangers that would trap

a bird who quests in sky-ing realms at need,

what stabs and blows what dread, this dapper chap?

–

We see the edges, missing all the gap,

our knowledge barren, empty as the trees

he flaunts and hops and leaves without a map.

–

Enigma bright, enlivened nature’s cap

to simple beauty: elegance we read.

He dabs, and bows his head, a dapper chap,

then flaunts, and stately, leaves without a map.