A busy little sparrow is neatening
up my yard again, nit-picking
tiny fits of fluff, housekeeping
miniscule debris from my
just-hatched garden.
This immigrant offspring, common
as crumbs on a sidewalk table,
makes herself at home in city
blocks and parking lots and in
my pocket garden.
Favored by God’s eye, discerned
in song and story, in thrall to
biology; she goes about
her preparations
for coming generations.
I stand en pointe waiting for the
comic sight of scrawny pledges with
open beaks and newborn notions.
As a keeper of plants, I have vested interest
in the propagation of species.
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