The Mountain Bluebird Poem by Logan Reed

the mountain bluebird
flutters his feathers
and flies.

And perches upon
the bark of a tree
by a dark hole
where wood used to be.

What creature
in this hole
stirs and roams.
The one that calls
this place his home.

Is to the world
unknown,
and unknown
to me.

For maybe there is no creature
where the wood used to be.

But the mountain bluebird,
he doesn't care,
so he flutters his feathers,
and flies off again.