Saturate and brimming of my hometown Boston, of its sunshine Marathon peoples and bomb images, my heart fracture rend.
On the third day—resurrection of all my sadness came to me, feeling fresh and born to fruition, so this grew.
It grew and through my tears coming, I stood to witness two loving sparrows on a window branch.
My sadness at some abeyance, studying and curious I was of her--all akimbo shivers and rock-in-roll, of him-- flying feathered stone, rolling from branch to branch and coming home, repeatedly.
Circles flying within moving circles!
Did something happen with the last jiggle of her branch?
Did you see that? Science says what they were doing—they had finished.
(But what to believe of Science? It calls their loving--mating rather).
Now to tell you—the sequencing was this: when I was full knocked down on account of my grief, and I hardly had strength to go on, a Beatles song flew in and gently pierced my heart, singing to my ear: Why don't we do it in the road... no one will be watching us...why, why don't we do it
O, Spring Life of Sparrow surprises! Open road, that budding tree, any new notion is something grand!
How do I say now? That you two were most helpful, your innocence forever abiding?
Fly off Sparrows, forever prayer! I speak this with all my love.