Sparrows

 

I often wonder how

We cannot find sparrows anymore;

Those feathers in brown, black and white

Scurrying in groups,

Bringing life to the sultriest of summers

Through flights of freedom

In the afternoon suns of

Golden-sepia yesterdays

 

Perhaps, they too have flown away

Like lost childhood days

Unable to return

From the event-horizon of time

Perhaps they too have gone far

Like long, lost friends

Faded away with musty postcards

And old telephone numbers

 

Sometimes though,

Comes floating a little feather

In the sunset colours of a greying day

A feather in a cirrus cloud,

Drifting away,

Asking us to leave behind

The weariness of our age,

Of lost time and faded memories

 

Reminding us to not forget -

Perhaps there is a small flock,

Of tiny sparrows from yesterday

Still persisting against all odds

Just like a tiny bit of us

Still spry, free, awaiting  

Drifting away like a light feather

In the heaviest air of jaded days…

 

20^th June, 2025