Small the changes we made
to the yard from last
spring to this. Shrubs
mainly, a path, a deck.
But we must have changed
the northwest passage
around the house for today
the strong wind, soothing
as it was for a time
in its familiarity as I sat
with the horror of news,
ultimately crushed the curve
taken by a flock of American
tree sparrows against my window.
One after one they fell. I rose,
made myself look at each one,
the whole works. Dead dead dead
dying dead. Look what I’ve done.