Ode to Sparrow

Up on the back of the couch you sit.

Down on subjects with glorious disdain you look.

A deity in Egypt, I promised you I won’t forget it. 

In my house, on your throne next to my book,

with fur soft and fluffy, my favorite pillow. I lay

on your black striped coat as you hum a lullaby.

You stretch and yawn to get up and spray

all over my stuff, secretly yours, that I buy.

No person or thing could take your place,

forever here to stay in my embrace.

Now up on the counter top you pose

with regal contempt for the vase beside—

the epitome of all your woes—

now shattered despite the warnings I cried.

Back on the floor beside your serf,

watching him clean your vanquished foe.

an example of all that invade your turf.

You catch a glimpse of something nouveau.

A gray box set on the floor beside the wall

more gorgeous than all you can recall.

It’s a hard knock life for you, your grace

all cute and asleep in my suitcase.

J

Artist: Charles Wysocki