The sparrow is on the pulpit of a small branch
which curves up slightly at its end.
I saw it fly and land and survey what it saw
including me looking out the screen door,
caught by its flight and landing,
its sense of not staying too long.
Now, a robin walks beneath the empty
pulpit and likewise is gone as if the sermon
of the day has something to do with impermanence,
how a moment can fit together and disappear
without that sense of loss, of bowing at what’s
been given however briefly forever lasts.
-Byron Hoot
