a sparrow

You can buy two for a penny, cheap enough;

I see hundreds a day in a bamboo shrub on Point Street,

and they’ve become my friends as I pass by.

 
 

When I try to whistle their tune, they suddenly stop theirs;

I can’t know any one of them, just all of them,

The one like the other, nothing flashy, mostly brown.

 
 

He who inhabits eternity, and knows every star in His palace hall,

And having named each one, then surely these;

Not one falls to the ground without His notice.

 
 

Even as “My soul yearns, even faints for the courts of the Lord;

And my soul and my flesh cry out for the living God.”

So, too, “the sparrow has found a home” in His temple.

 
 

Another day after work, I walked again that sidewalk,

and there it lay, having fallen, insignificantly, a single dead bird.

Its Father watching, must have cried, and His tears fell from my eyes.

 
 

I stepped over the tiny body, then paused to looked;

The profundity of life in feathers, lifeless; known by its Maker;

And there I knew that God loves me, too.

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