I love sitting inside my home on sunny days. Curtains drawn away from the windows. I watch birds flit, in and out, amongst the trees.





a sparrow

brown cup of a bird
lay       listed to the left,
body a bellows
through the glass

through its own
perfect feathers, I
saw its heart’s
treble percussion

dark bead eyes
almost glassy     yet still
alive      my own heart

from the thump
the windows still
had not recovered


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