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Fox Sparrow

Fox Sparrow ATR/99.4 I was just about to say the freeze had turned the deck to fallen stars, when trees reflected in a window light beguiled a songbird into thinking it more wild and knocked itself headfirst upon the pane which uttered something like a sparrow slain. A sort of sparrow’s what it was, and so there’d be enough on earth to let one go, but this was mine. I’d been there when the sound woke up the tom and brought that killer round to see what windfall came to earth today, an easy catch, and then the time of play. He had within himself the urge to kill that kept his ancestors alive, but still enjoyed it even though he’d had his fill that morning. So I took the bird in my fleece robe and said, “It’s over. Don’t you die.” But die it did despite my ministrations, caring, and Samaritan oblations. And when I try to pick the one who erred, I find myself as well as cat and bird. What sort of reformation would suffice to turn this world around and make it nice? The frosty glint is off my deck for now but will return. We’ll make it through somehow. John Brugaletta John Brugaletta is professor emeritus at California State University, Fullerton. His poems have been featured in The Random House Treasury of Light Verse, Image, and Relief, among other many venues. He has published three volumes of poetry, most recently Peripheral Visions (Negative Capability Press, 2017) and The Invisible God (Wipf and Stock, 2017). http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Anglican Theological Review SAGE

Fox Sparrow

Brugaletta, John
Anglican Theological Review , Volume 99 (4): 1 – Aug 25, 2021
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Publisher
SAGE
Copyright
© 2017 Anglican Theological Review Corporation
ISSN
0003-3286
eISSN
2163-6214
DOI
10.1177/000332861709900411
Publisher site
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Abstract

ATR/99.4 I was just about to say the freeze had turned the deck to fallen stars, when trees reflected in a window light beguiled a songbird into thinking it more wild and knocked itself headfirst upon the pane which uttered something like a sparrow slain. A sort of sparrow’s what it was, and so there’d be enough on earth to let one go, but this was mine. I’d been there when the sound woke up the tom and brought that killer round to see what windfall came to earth today, an easy catch, and then the time of play. He had within himself the urge to kill that kept his ancestors alive, but still enjoyed it even though he’d had his fill that morning. So I took the bird in my fleece robe and said, “It’s over. Don’t you die.” But die it did despite my ministrations, caring, and Samaritan oblations. And when I try to pick the one who erred, I find myself as well as cat and bird. What sort of reformation would suffice to turn this world around and make it nice? The frosty glint is off my deck for now but will return. We’ll make it through somehow. John Brugaletta John Brugaletta is professor emeritus at California State University, Fullerton. His poems have been featured in The Random House Treasury of Light Verse, Image, and Relief, among other many venues. He has published three volumes of poetry, most recently Peripheral Visions (Negative Capability Press, 2017) and The Invisible God (Wipf and Stock, 2017).

Journal

Anglican Theological Review – SAGE

Published: Aug 25, 2021

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