over something small.
Jay said the sky was blue,
while Jim said, "Not at all."
Jim said it was black
as his glossy feathers.
Jay said that was only
during bad weather.
Jim said not, but each morning
before The Sun shone her head.
Jay said, "Nay, The Sun is a man.",
and flew off, instead.
He flew for a spell
thinking how the sky certainly was blue,
then he looked down,
cooing, "See, the water is too!"
As he soared through the tree tops
he thought the leaves were green.
He was sure his cousin, Jim Crow,
would say they were not what they seem,
for there are times they turn into gold.
That cousin was surely a liar,
or so he'd been told.
But, then, there, what did he spy?
Was that really gold?
He squinted his eye
and plunged down, down,
and what was this?
A tiny fairy he'd found!
He'd landed top a flower,
a flower so large,
he'd scattered her seeds,
Sunny, startled, cowered,
beneath a shower of dark hail.
There hadn't been a bird this bright
in her hidden vale.
"Who are you, bird?', she asked,
'Who helps me harvest my seed?"
"Jay Blue.", answered he.
"Well, I will reward you for this deed."
Then the fairy spun round,
three times, four.
She turned round again
just to be sure.
And, Jay, there he stood,
in a new blue jacket and cap.
His dark plumes, now blue,
he loved sunflowers
and always would.
