Bluejays


Always I hear the bluejays
These early autumn blue days,
Taunting the leaves to hurry,
Wanting the snow to flurry,
Wanting a blue-white weather
To match their blue-white feather.
All right, all right, I'm willing
And far far more than willing,
But leave me a few days longer
To satisfy my hunger
For something almost summer
After the end of summer,
When the quiet mind goes gleaning
For odds and ends of meaning
Before the year's transition,
Before the mind's submission.
Then let the jays come screaming
And jar me from my dreaming.


Robert Francis, Robert Francis: Collected Poems, 1936-1976, University of Massachusetts Press, 1985.