A Sparrow Worthy of Honor

I watched him closely, as he watched me
Our eyes locked, just for seconds
But long enough to see his soul
That something wrapped about him
Like a sheer linen blanket
The sort of material grandma used
To make living room curtains
Light, airy, gently filtering light
Never blocking it
Or letting too much in

Once our eyes disengaged, I thought
He’s just a simple bird
An ordinary bird, wearing drab brown and orange feathers
Much like myself, I must admit
But there is something special about this bird
Certainly not his colors, or his official pedigree
And not even his choice of music
Some almost unknown Bach overture
Perhaps it was the fact, he called me by my name
And perched upon my right shoulder
That I believe, entitles him to some praise

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