“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God.” Luke 12:6
Somewhere in the big city slush
in snow covered alcoves
a sparrow lies crushed and trampled,
unseen, unknown by busy citizens of God’s green marble.
No obituary given.
No seven p.m. news report
on channel three with Cathy McGee
proclaiming “Local bird is murdered in Manhattan.”
Apathy, a state of no mind
in predominantly God look-alikes,
an incurable addiction crushing
man’s soul like a vise.
The city streets keep humming
melodies of coming and going.
The sparrow’s friends mourn their brother’s frozen corpse
Disfigured and attached to his concrete grave.