the betcee bird
is building the best nest
from the best little twigs
she finds around the woods

she usually finds them
at the bottom of big things
as she pulls
for that one little perfect twig
whole foundations
comes thumbling

castles made of stone
dams made of rock
mountains made of ages
are no match
for the betcee bird

as she builds her world
of wonder and love
collected from the ground below

but that's ok with the woods
because her nest
is perched so high
nothing can get at it

no cat
no bird of prey
no cultural memory

her nest shines light
into the night
on the ruins of generations
who probably deserved
their fate and termination

the sweet little betcee bird
goddess of destruction
putting an end to empire
with a single aspiration

doing what governors
and orators
and dictators
couldn't do with an army

unraveling time
giving her new species
a chance to spring
into existence

hybrid
between angel and bird
dooming man
to a thunderous rain
of tears

did you think
nature would allow
its own demise
at the hand of a mouse?

it didn't send troops
or killer virus
or nuclear holocaust

it sent a bird
a sweet little bird
building a nest
programmed to unravel
the uncertainty principal

a genetic machine
with wings