“You put that boy’s brain in a bluejay, and it’d fly backwards.”
There’s a line to stick in your mind, my friend.
I mean, why’d your Papa say a bluejay?
He sure did nail it down and make it plain
By namin’ this here bird, the old bully,
and flippin’ him ‘round so as not to hound
them little wrens, towhees, and chickadees.
I’d wager your Papa, fishin’ his pond,
used to hum His Eye is On the Sparrow.
But the sparrow still falls, you know it’s true,
like leaves from the trees, like notes on our ears,
like our tears when we face a loved one’s death.
So you know, you know sure as this here breath
That, yes, all go down to the dirt at last.
Thinkin’ we’d best straighten up and fly straight,
yessir, your Papa’s crazy backwards grace.