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POEM: Possibly Sparrows

Possibly Sparrows

I sit on a Saturday morning,
sipping tea that is rapidly cooling.
(There used to be a name for that;
a sound that these days is returning.)

There are little brown birds in the leafy bush.
They’re hopping and chittering and, as a human,
it is easy to imagine they’re friends,
gallivanting among the branches.

It is quiet on this Saturday morning,
with the tea cooling on the borrowed desk
and a soft-voiced parliamentarian
intoning the words of a long-dead poet.

The dog paces again past the closed door,
nails clicking on the linoleum,
as I sit at this borrowed desk,
carefully tracing my feelings

with a cup of tea cooling at my elbow
and the sound of the poet’s words in my ears
and a slight discomfort under my left leg
where the cushion has lost its spring.

I, though, have regained my spring;
have found myself dancing around rooms
when no one else is at home as the kettle whistles
from the kitchen to say it’s time for tea.

/ / /

18 February 2023
State College PA

Published in My poems Poetry


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