Sparrows *

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Three lovely little sparrows

For a moment, on my white balcony.

Soon fly to the roof of pigeons—

Burnt sienna greened and browned with age.

Black and white birds scatter the sky,

Their tails slowly sinking.

The mynahs do not tarry here

I know not why.


A groan of thunder, parliament disassembles

And all that's left:

The tupai negotiating the barbed wire—


Foot in

Foot out.

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A/N: To be read aloud with a distinctly Scottish inflection.




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