born underneath a dying sun, the little sparrow lost her voice to the world
the way the trees around her bent and twisted to the ground led her to believe all things should fall
instead of using her wings as sails to lift herself to the skies, she used them like shovels
digging straight through to the heart

with a furiously confused motivation, down and down she went
though before too long she discovered a fat slithering worm
comsumed with hunger she devoured
becoming overjoyed with a magical energy
without pausing a moment to consider the implications,
she leapt through the clouds,
screaming like a savage aural goddess
piercing the day with her wonderful exuberance