I find I think of this poem by William Dickey so often that I wanted to post the complete version.
(Now let's just see if I can get Blogger to let me format it correctly.)
(It's still fighting me...)
I sent you this bluebird of the name of Joe
with "Happiness" tattooed on his left bicep.
(For a bluebird, he was a damn good size.)
And all you can say is you think your cat has got him?
I tell you the messages aren't getting through.
The Golden Gate Bridge is up past its ass in traffic;
tankers colliding; singing telegrams out on strike.
The machineries of the world are raised in anger.
So I am sending out this snail of the name of Fred
in a small tricolor sash, so the cat will know him.
He will scrawl out "Happiness" in his own slow way.
I won't ever stop until the word gets to you.
And here, I'll just drop that into this cup I'm still holding, less you ever need a sip.