Of Sparrows and Trees

It cocks an eye at me. I recall, as a boy, I stood by a window looking at a sparrow just like this one. Every feather could be the same, even the mien and stance – the same. I had never thought of myself as a tree, yet all my life I’ve been branching away from first roots. I'm still changing into something else, but not this little bird, it has perched itself on a branch of my life, and is caught within a timeless lens forever.