Sunday, August 4, 2024

The Sparrows

The threat of rain’s kept folks away,

But out here by the river,

The sparrows flock when I sit down,

To see what I’ll deliver.

 

I never feed them, but I guess

That other humans do

And so they hop around my bench

In case some crumbs I’ll strew.

 

When minutes pass, they flit away

To find another source

As I gaze out at choppy waves

While feeling no remorse.

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