Closer to Mary Oliver’s hands in the picture where she spoon feeds a sparrow, I was on collision day
still, I wouldn’t dare to cup the sparrow
and whisper reassuring words

I was raised to observe and to watch and
to not intrude, but oh,
to hold what Mary Oliver did
and find a connection to sparrow in the
sweet sensation of sparrow pulse
beating against the palm of my hand

closer to sunrise and I am already
meeting this poem alongside the sparrows
I offer more seeds that don’t lure
more spectacular birds, still,
but the sparrows are a jolly lot to watch
gluttonous, is the word I learn from her

and isn’t it a good practice to find joy in the ordinary?
If anything, Mary Oliver asks us to praise life, all of it