Little Sparrow Poem by Kenneth English

Little sparrow, windward sprinting sprite
On a magnetic journeys forgotten way,
Fleeing the onerous winter appetite
Through the current for which its held sway.

In the shade of a haggard birch
Patters quietly the varmint fink,
Little mouse holes among sparse spurge,
Captured cotton and string and other tiny things.

O' the wonders of the versicolor sea,
The lonely push and pull of salty waves
That wet the mountains bleached scree
Lapping at that which time never forgave:

To this plight begun on their ingress,
All without a touch of human kindness.