He's an imaginary bird I spotted
As I turned my heading crossing LaVerkn Creek
And saw the thin metal lettering of a sign
I'd never noticed before, not on any
Previous commutes, which spelled:"HOPE."
I have no idea whether the sign was meant
To refer to the nearby subdivision,
Someone's individual property,
Or a general hortatory principle,
But in spotting the happy bird I decided
For myself it must be the latter.
Later, I sat in the hot shadows of my courtyard
Watching the real sparrows and finches, house and gold,
And I said to myself, why not?
Until imagination itself is taken from me
Or, more exactly, me from imagination,
Why not? I watched the clouds over the cliffs
Carrying brave bird messages everywhere.
Actual hours I watched them.
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