Día de los Muertos #2

why i feed the birds


once

i saw my grandmother hold out

her hand cupping a small offering

of seed to one of the wild sparrows

that frequented the bird bath she

filled with fresh water every day


she stood still

maybe stopped breathing

while the sparrow looked

at her, then the seed

then back as if he was

judging her character


he jumped into her hand

began to eat

she smiled


a woman holding

a small god


published in Guernica, revisited. Press 53, 2014




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