Two sparrows collide in mid-air flight,

their wings battered and torn.

I was one watcher then, and now

I saw something I could have sworn.

One fell out of my sight,

then the other just as far,

and having perhaps the better land,

fell into a grassy and scrub-covered plain.

And as I ran over there,

I noticed them to be about the same.

But as I thought about the day,

I knew that I could not keep both.

So I am here about to pray,

that another watcher is on their way

to carry the other home.

I will be telling this story with a sigh,

somewhere ages and ages hence.

Two sparrows collide in mid-air flight,

and I– I nursed the smaller of the two…

hoping that’s made all the difference.