I awoke this morning,
To the same repetitions
Ending with coffee on the porch
Thinking of my night’s petitions
Into silence and inertia
Asking why no one cared,
Why I must remain unloved;
So close to accusation, I was scared.
Coffee in hand now,
My children gather
Around a small dead sparrow
Lifeless little feathers
In front of our home,
In the center of our path
And my daughter, deeply moved,
Asks what kind of life it had.
I tell her I don’t know,
But not a bird falls to earth
Outside of His care
And I wonder if my worst
Can still be hidden in His best.
viewingcamelot 
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