Safe above
The nocturnal prowling
Of neighborhood cats,
Where once there was one
Lone small brown sparrow
Perched every night
On one of the three
Forgotten rusty construction
Guide line nails stuck
In the stonework near
The top of our portico’s arch,
Now there are three, each
On a nail of its own,
In like company, their tiny
Talons locked tight, holding
Fast to the common dream
Of outlasting one more night.
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