(for Molly from Bryan)
This morning Molly found a sparrow
On the terrace (or Nancaro,
I don’t know who)
Its legs “Like this!” says Moll, and shows
Her fingers spread like sparrow toes;
We don’t know why.
Perhaps before the sparrow died,
After it tried to come inside
And visit us
And hit the window, as it lay
Upon the ground and slipped away
To where birds go,
It looked above it at the sky,
And when it found it couldn’t fly
It tried to walk
Upon the far-off blue it saw
And stretched its legs, then – nothing more:
The sparrow died.
And in the morning Moll and Caro
Dug a little small and narrow
Grave for it
And while they’ve gone to buy our tea
I’m writing – as they asked of me –
This epitaph
To say: “Goodbye. We hope you’re snug
Inside the little home we dug -
Moll and her Nan –
Beside the lawn –
Goodbye.”