Poetry Time
This monthly series began more than a decade ago in an effort to encourage the joys of poetry. Here we celebrate other poet's work, as well as our own. If you would like to submit, simply visit the ABOUT page for guidelines & contact information.
A SPARROW DIED
During the night a sparrow died,
I found him lying on my back step,
On his back, frozen, in the snow,
So close, a mere foot from the door.
Perhaps he hoped to get inside
If the man would bring him in
Just for a while, to feel the warm
By a register in the kitchen floor.
Then let back out to fly away,
To survive another frigid day.
It made me wonder - standing there,
When a sparrow dies, does anyone care?
~~~
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