The Sparrows
by GennaRose Nethercott
They say a sparrow stole an ember
from the gods to give us fire—
and we know this to be true.
How else did their tails singe red?
How else did we come to sit
here by the hearth, my truest friends,
telling secrets as daylight wanes?
If you asked me for a flame,
I would rob one for you. If you asked me
for a ruby. For a boat. For a loaf of bread.
But of course, you need not ask. We speak
easily enough without speaking.
We sparrows tossing sparks
back and forth between our beaks.
Even when you fly from me, I see you
glowing, far afield. Threads of light stretched
between us like telephone lines. Tightropes.
Pluck the distance like a violin string;
hear it sing our names.