“Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle,
That while you watched turned to pieces of snow,
Riding a gradient invisible
From silver aslant to random, white, and slow.
There came a moment that you couldn’t tell,
And then they clearly flew instead of fell.”
I adore that poem by Howard Nemerov. It was one of the random poems UConn has plastered all over the buses or in one of the buildings, I can’t remember where I’d originally seen it. I do remember it being so pungent that I was compelled to write it down.
There is something eternal about sparrows. It’s like that Owl City song “Saltwater Room”…
When I feel warm with your hand in mine
When we walk along the shoreline;
I guess we’ll never know why sparrows love the snow
We’ll turn out all of the lights and set this ballroom aglow.
So tell me, darling, do you wish we’d fall in love?
Yeah, all the time, all the time.
I’m not generally a fan of birds (I have a bad track record) but they do seem to like me. Especially owls and sparrows.
Here’s the owl that perched right outside my bedroom window. He’s a beauty. Credit to my photographically talented father.