Sparrows

These poems are not

important enough

to be bound in silent

books. Rather, let them

dart out of the window,

bright eyed, to land on

your shoulder and sing

for their breakfast.

Recent Posts

They are the smallest of seeds. Set with care in a tiny feeder suction-cupped to my kitchen window. How can this offering, a mere handful...

The tree outside my kitchen door has become a symphony of liquid notes from golden throats. They chirp and flutter, voicing the joy of a...

What would you do if, without warning, men came to your home said you must leave, you will leave now, this very moment. stop feeding your...