Blue Jay Down
Where has my blue jay gone?
He used to own my fence and lawn.
Filled with raucous chatter,
He’d crack seeds, making cats madder.
He’d drive the mocking bird from its nest,
And color the green with his deep blue crest.
From out of Africa, it did come.
A silent killer on the run.
A New York immigrant, it did ride,
Through Customs on some animal’s hide.
Hitched a ride on a mosquito bite,
And then a bird to take flight.
Go west, young virus; go west and wander,
Like so many before, pillage and plunder.
Take down bird and beast in your path.
Like the pestilence of pharaoh’s wrath.
Could it be some violated mummy,
Gave birth to West Nile from its tummy?
My neck is stiff and my head is splitting,
By writing this it would be fitting.
That I have caught the mummy’s curse,
To lie with the blue jay for better or worse.
Copyright 2002 © Ronald W. Hull
Read War's End, the Novel