In the No State

When a bird takes a short bath
In a high creek just past dawn
(They do this, it’s a real thing),

It looks a bit like a dog
The way it shakes, but it shakes
To work the wet in and not,

Like the dog, to shake drops out.
The bird fluffs its chest and wings
While eye-deep in the fast stream,

Splish, splash, then hops out, flies off.
The flight’s the best part to watch,
A freight plane with all the tanks filled.

It’s odd. The same birds will take
Dust baths to get rid of bugs.
What’s the bath in the creek for?

Not to add lift, that’s for sure.
And the bird might drink, might not.
It has a splash. It flies off.

Is this like trips to the gym?
One of those strange things folks do
To build strength, find the flow state?

The birds that do this, do it
On their own. Not a group thing,
That dawn bath in a fast creek.

It’s rare to catch, but you can,
In the high, pine woods in spring.
You have to be in the no

State as well—an hour you waste
On a rock, no snacks, no books,
No screens, no watch. No planned sit,

Just, what-do-you-know, you were
On a walk, you stopped, got lost
In your thoughts, then lost your thoughts.

That’s when you might see a bird
Take a creek bath at your feet,
And that’s when, too, you might not.