Sparrows

Where are all the sparrows? You question, looking at the smog Turning the morning mist Into plumes, darker than most shades of grey. And those rice thieves are no longer On any horizon, let alone marking, Their presence inside human homes. And in this climate of change Of a slow apocalypse, you find The tender…

Spring

Perhaps in this seasonal bout, Of hay fever, you will find in your nasal voice A cheer to spur yourself, to go out to the garden, To see the floral display, All of nature‚Äôs butterfly attractants Learning that pollen is just, The softest art of letting go voluntarily, Using the master trickery of glue. A…