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