house sparrow--chest
dusted rose--lands on a line,
faces west, sings a languid,
bluesy thing, a call, a tune,
a testimony,
also a satire of communicating
wires and the rest of our mess.
a second sparrow lands--
birds beside themselves.
more singing, sewed
together as dusk grows
lemony, then orange.
the first bird stops
singing and grooms
the second: time
soon to nest, close
up eyes, rest singing
throat and tongue--
one more day
one more day gone.
hans ostrom 2021
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