...My Little Sparrow.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

you are
just one the variations of
my mind

a creation of my own
time, another pattern of this
embroidery

another emotion, a hand of a fan,
at the middle of these fingers is
love, next is the ring, of fire, and wind,

you are the smallest i play with
early morning
when the church bells stop tolling

do not ever think of love
it is not here
think simply of the the passing wind
that hushes to my ear
that cools a portion of my cheek

to be exact
it is nothing more and nothing less

the sparrow is more like it
roosting a night on a twig by the
front of the window of this house
as soon as you hold my hand
it flies away and gone.