Let the Sparrows In

I.

Blackbirds are resting on the power lines,
Their silhouettes form the notation to
A dawn song set on the sheet music of
Telephone poles contrasted by the pale sun.

Curled leaves are land mines littered
On the lawn where imprints of twigs
And a nurturing robin’s tracks collect.

Branchlets and leaflets stem from
Porch step railings and mailboxes;
The numbers read even on the
East side of the asphalt:

Seven-seven-thirty-six.
The engraved letters on
The siding reads, “Davis.”
This house is home to family

So let the sparrows in.

The house,
With its branching hallways
And
Overhanging décor
And
Furniture rooted to the floor

Is home
To
Family, friends, the occasional
Neighbor’s kid
Locked
Out from home.

Let the sparrows in; let
The finches
Follow.
Let the door’s
Deadbolt
Loosen—let the door stand ajar
And
Be let open
To
The night owls and
Morning
Larks;

Let the doves
Alone
To pirouette
In pairs in the iridescent
Quiet.

Let the sparrows in.

 
II.

Framed on either side of the sofa
Are photographs of far-off family
With stunted smiles that suggest,
“Let’s never meet, but live together.”

A grandfather clock awakens and
Begins counting with occasional glances
Six-thirty…seven…seven-forty-five…

The birdsong past the beige veil
Of curtains forecasts daylight.

The hymn of a hummingbird is over-
Heard; it holds still, and keeps moving.
This habitat of indoors and outdoors
Has neighbors: beings and birds.

They’ll never meet, but live together…

…let the sparrows in; let
The starlings start in
After;
Let the warblers and
Whippoorwills
Trill
And whistle alto; let the woodpeckers
Drum with
A kick and hi-hat;
Let the cuckoo
Make friends
With
The grandfather clock
And count the days apart.

Let
The wrens rest in the spare room;
Let them make use
Of the
Acrylics and easel; let the terns
Paint portraits of the
High-society cardinals
And
Bluejays; let
The swallows reorient
The house
Room by room
Until they have reached the attic.
Let them overstay
Their
Welcome—

Let the sparrows in—
Until the
Quiet
Becomes bearable,
Relatable.

Nic Swaner is a studying graphic designer and a budding young writer whose flash fiction has been published by 365tomorrows. His writing also makes appearances on origami models, at spoken word events and in his digital artwork.