Broken Sparrows
The seasons passed beyond the glass doors
I could see in detail each of their days
As I wheeled my chair forward-
No one day remained the same
You can always find some difference
Mirrored by choice
Save for a sparrow
That began its visits
On that autumn morn
It perched itself on the handrail of the deck
And bathed in the warmth of the sun
Pruning its feathers as it looked toward
The distant mountains collage
Of copper, gold and brassy reds
And every year
on every season since
It did not fail to visit
Standing on the handrail of the deck
Outside the sliding glass doors
During winters I placed out seeds
And in the summers I gave water
And like this
nature chose a companion
And I named him
Then on a very hard winter
the wind blew
cascading landscapes
of deep snow fields
undulating as a tide
He came
Laying with a broken wing
That dotted red the snow
Instinctively I gathered him,
Brought him from the cold
Not knowing the choice
I had inspired
That had already been made
Sustained -
I set his wing
We spent our days together
Till the time came
to let him go
I put him out on the handrail
He stood there for a time
Pruning his feathers
In the warmth of the summers sun
And in the end never left
And there was not
that broken sparrow
That he gathered from the cold.
Copyright © Abel Olivencia | Year Posted 2018
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