hopping amid the gravel and grass
the sparrows
in random directions find sustenance
like ufo’s masquerading as stars in the night sky
but kin
after a mid-summer storm
a small rainbow arcs from pines
to a garden
irridescence on the neck of a pigeon
the city smells of dust
but why is a butterfly here
i understand these as gifts
thank you
a sparrow
colour of english eyes
separates from the others
hops insistent for attention –
a crumb of love bread compassion
saying
have i taught you nothing?
