Since the bird feeders, the House Sparrows
have run the finches off the beam,
scattered their nest, spending mornings
rebuilding for a week. The male helps,
but would rather fluff his feathers
in the warm first light and supervise.
He packs little twigs and she dry weeds,
long streamers trailing her fluttering
balancing act, treading air before ascending.
Saying nothing, we see ourselves
in these silhouettes, satisfied
and pleased to entertain the gods.
drycrikjournal 
fine illustration of ‘the least of these’ as Jesus would have said . . .
LikeLiked by 1 person
I wondered if anyone would make the connection. Thanks! 🙂
LikeLike
The male Sparrows equate to our politicians.
Although Sparrows and Finches can be a bit messy, it’s the “Midnight singing Mockingbirds” that refuse to let you sleep that can get my feathers ruffled.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Unable to sleep nights because of their incessant chattering, my sweet grandmother had a two-bit bounty on Mockingbirds when I was a boy. However, the male House Sparrows, I suspect, will pale by comparison to the fluffing we will endure for the next 18 months.
LikeLike