Tuesday, 2 August 2016

little sparrow

little sparrow

little sparrow
riding on the
branch of pine
in a wind
with smell of
rain
you chirp
under the
clutter of sounds
around me
chirp on
through my ear
chirp on
as though believing
the god of growing
things will kneel
to you
place fullness
into your mouth
he won't
nor the dark
nor the wind
nor the cat
nor the final
day you sleep
heavy into,
wings slurred
frozen in a
nook between
branch and
trunk

chirp
little sparrow
for all the
worth of your
song a stitch
in a broad
trodden
mat
time
let's call
it.

                      september 2012

                      panmure

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