I could hear them, those sparrows
as they called to each other
outside my window. Their shadows
dancing on my eyelids, light
and dark.
A breeze finds the slenderest gaps,
reaches my skin. Morning gathers
momentum, bursts silently
upon the ledge. I sense it
like the small hand
Of my daughter
just before she draws
wobbly circles on the soles
of my feet.
Then giggles.
-o-
This poem also appears in another website where it is languishing.
Matangmanok 