The Hungry Sparrows

The little birds arrived this morning
At the concrete cafe
Dancing for their breakfast yet
Finding none at their feet.
Have they forgotten that
The morsels they seek
Are hidden as always
In plain sight
Above their tiny heads
In the hanging pan where
They usually sit to
Eat and chirp in whispers
About news of worry and wonder;

Did you hear about Jose,
The owls ate him while his wife
And chicks watched?
And the snow
Which covers all that grows
Forcing us back to the porches,
Colder than ice and so, so empty?

Are we lazy or just numb forgetting
That Yahweh remembers
Our hunger and fills
The swinging grocery store each night.
Fly upward ye sparrows,
We are not doomed to starve
But invited each day
To a feast.

Steven Bell lives in Colorado Springs.