Canto CLVI

The little brown bird on the pavement
is dead and perfect as if life itself
could be perceived as a contaminant,

for it’s been said there’s naught ruder than health.
It must have have been the 68’s window
that put an end to its roof hopping stealth,

riding the tides of winter winds that blow
through thickest coats to seek the white of bone,
to fall softly onto the street below

to be of no concern, the soul has flown.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Feb 02, 2012 @ 23:48:36

    I like the last stanza and the couplet…
    I think the sparrow’s demise got to you.


  2. richard purnell
    Feb 03, 2012 @ 08:14:52

    Good to see the 68 getting a shout on the mundane comedy, if in rather sad circumstances


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