Michele Herman

 

 

The Sparrow Watches the Human

 

She stops scribbling with that rubbery

claw of hers and stares at me again.

Seems she’s reaching for something

but stopping herself short.

 

Sorry, lady, I got nothing for you. I’m just

as restless as you but with a littler brain.

I can’t complain. Except that the blue jay

has bad intentions. The mourning doves

are so happy-happy together.

 

I know how you feel, all this fluttering and what

do you have to show, right? And then the robins

move in next door with their pulchritude and their

perfect sonata form.

 

 

 

A. C. Grayling