Ohh little sparrow..
though your bones
may be quite hollow..
seems to me
your gut is surely
made of lead.
It takes a heart of gold
to feast upon
so many bitter fruits..
and somehow
still find strength
to care.

I suppose this calls
for change of strategy
from me..
and so today
I’ll feed you fruits,
not bitter..
rather sweet.
I’ve boinked you
on the head
with all my wickedness
enough by now,
indeed.

Perhaps through knowing
that I never meant you
any harm..
the stream of blood
that’s gushing
from your wounds
may finally congeal?
All that I wanted
was to offer you
a taste of medicine..
so you may finally
fly free and heal.

Alas, a doctor’s order
only does you good..
to the extent
that you obey.
Don’t long for me,
seek for your happiness
upon another tree.
You are The One
who taught me
that the best things
come into the lives
of those who pray.

This humble tree
still bears its fruits
both sweet and bitter
for your nightly pecking..
and yet, of course,
the tree upon which
you may find your nest
won’t make you
blindly reckon.