Friday, May 1, 1998


Plato said that our souls were once feathered all over.

Maybe that's why we can't forget them, these beings with wings that fly about us in complex rhythms

now in, now out of our vision.

Are they angels? Delicate ones

won't live near our homes.

Our well-intended gardens

and strict lawns forbid them.

Yet sometimes our guard

slips and we let the yard

run to seed.... The song

sparrow returns to feed on

the fruits of our disregard.

Jean Keskulla