There is a sparrow
on a branch of the plum tree,
just one of the songbirds
left in this city of crows.

She sings with desire
for the light that rises,
she sings for the day
and the warmth to come,

her tuft of feathers
and russet crown
full with the beauty
of invisible touch.

The sound of her music
welcomes the swell
of deep woven roots,
the lift of leaves
to the light of the sun

and here I sit
with the plum tree sparrow,
her bright voice calling
a morning gift.

 


photograph by James Frid

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

17 Responses

  1. I think you clothe the meaning of divine grace in “full of the beauty of invisible touch”.
    The sparrow gave it to you, and you’ve given it to me.
    Thank you!

  2. Ha! Good one! I love little poems about specific birds or specific wildflowers like this. This is a little jewel.

  3. Don, your poems always been with an exceptional awareness of what’s in front of you, no matter how ordinary and small. You have a gift. Thanks for sharing it.

  4. Beautiful awareness of cycles and renewal. An appropriate antidote to the contagion of fear.

  5. Don:

    your sparrow could visit…

    … the Chinese Elm
    outside my kitchen window, where
    each morning’s glance reveals
    tiny leaves a bit less yellow-green,
    a bit more full and wearing
    Mr Spring’s official Green

  6. For every poem you post there comes back to you gratitude, for having been touched. And, somehow we want to find words we would speak back to you, giving form to completing the creative cycle. So, here I want to say to those, “pay it forward”. We’ve been blessed, now we let it expand into the world in which we serve.

  7. Thanks Don. Lovely, sweet and tender. Oneness is the given gift—Oneness is the blessing received. Thanksgiving.

  8. I love to read your poetry, Don, although I seldom respond. You are right on. I also read the responses. They, too, are beautiful and give me hope.

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