Sparrows

 

 

As if condemned for drabness

Buff, beige, dun,

we flushed them from the ivy

their flight the height of fun.

Much later on the roadway flocked

a dust bath, sheer delight,

I too in ashes understood

Their beauty and their plight.

Next, flushed from my ivy mask

I watched the sparrows rise

and shape themselves to a fish

most wonderful surprise,

Ah! Little Gospel, softly read,

many sparrows is my daily bread.

 

From Brendan Connolly's anthology, The Bridle Path,

prepared for publication and edited by Brian Bingham,

available:

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Next edition of Automatic Pilot available in print and digital format in January 2021.

Closing date for submissions, 15th December 2020.

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