As Sparrrows Fly Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The flight of sparrows

It fell from the summer sky the bird, dust on roadside weed
not pretty place a flutter of its wings and then nothing.
It, a sparrow didn’t look particularly old and birds can live long,
but the call to joined the celestial heaven had been sudden
and no time for spring rituals, sitting on phone lines flirting.
God’s canary bird had escaped its cage – it had read a book that
God was not great- and she replaced it with a much lowly bird
grey winged- yes, and quarrelsome, they tend to be and they
will be asking questions. I know of a couple they have a nest near
the roof terrace when I go up there they never stop their shrilly
thrilling until I leave feeling hurt because I know where they live
on the third roof tile to the left, and I know they have shat in
my deck chair. They have produced fledglings which have turned
out to be as uncut as their parents, but I have said nothing.
Sometimes I wonder if full freedom is good, as humans and birds
we think we have the right to rule the world, but we are leaves
blown off the tree and we now little of tomorrow.