Birds in the Hand: "Hardware Sparrows"

I found a book at a used bookstore for $1.50 that could have been great or crap, but for a buck-fifty I figured it was worth the gamble.  It's an anthology of fiction and poetry about birds called Birds in the Hand, edited by Dylan and Kent Nelson, daughter and father.  And the gamble paid off:  this is a book full of first-rate poems and stories by contemporary authors like Flannery O'Connor, Wendell Berry, Billy Collins, and Barbara Kingsolver, along with lesser known but highly capable writers. 

I turned down lots of page corners on poems that grabbed me.  There were attention-grabbing stories, too, but they're harder to share here—I recommend that you find the book and read them yourself, whether you're a bird addict or not.  It's all about birds, and it's not just about the birds.

I'm going to share a poem a day (or so) with you because I just can't keep them to myself!

"Hardware Sparrows," by R. T.  Smith

Out for a deadbolt, light bulbs
and two-by-fours, I find a flock
of sparrows safe from hawks 

and weather under the roof
of Lowe's amazing discount
store.  They skitter from the racks 

of stockpiled posts and hoses
to a spill of winter birdseed
on the concrete floor.  How 

they know to forage here,
I can't guess, but the automatic
door is close enough, 

and we've had a week
of storms.  They are, after all,
ubiquitous, though poor, 

their only song an irritating
noise, and yet they soar
to offer, amid hardware, rope 

and handyman brochures,
some relief, as if a flurry
of notes from Mozart swirled 

from seed to ceiling, entreating
us to set aside our evening
chores and take grace where 

we find it, saying it is possible,
even in this month of flood,
blackout and frustration, 

to float once more on sheer
survival and the shadowy
bliss we exist to explore.