the blue bird

the bird watcher
with her binoculars

her satchel
of water and food,

books,
kneels patiently
with
her camera.

she puts a finger
to her mouth
when I walk hurriedly by.

shh, she whispers.
bluebird.
then points him
out.

he's still on the wooden
box
set on
the green field.

he's beautiful,
she says, look how
vibrant his colors are.

I stop and look.
she's right.