Song of the Ecumenical Sparrow
As the night has gone
hasty rush comes over the morn,
And I, eager for the day,
in the strength of the lonely morning sparrow
shrugs its shoulders
laughs aloud at being born.
The silhouette fades
the red-faced sun runs up the hill.
The emerald turns to jade,
the sparrow laughs and sings
the dulling day warms its wings
shakes off the evening chill.
And sleepy-eyed it pecks aloud
As the same hasty rush comes over your soul;
you are not earnest like the brown-feathered sparrow,
more like the reckless and whimsical gull.
Wrapped are your days in cellophane,
heartless and untrue,
one day, the sparrow with snow-covered wings,
icy branches will shiver and sing
And dance on the rooftops
by the old weathervane
it wakes to the silence of a cold, cold morning
has left only the crumbs of people like you.
So sleep, fatted calves, on your billowy
wake not to the lonely sparrow's song.
And on Heavenly flight, without wings,
not for the sparrow which has done the world no wrong,
But which sadly, some day,
must swallow you whole.
© 2006 Brian Christopher
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