the little brown sparrows,
perch on the barbed
string fence,
feathers ruffled and puffed
against the cold, of the morning air
they knatter and gossip away among themselves.

they know nothing  of the sorrow of this day..

the thought comes to mind,
why would they care,
god's eye is upon them,
as they bask in the sunshine.
i sigh and crumble a corner
of my toast and scatter it to
the ground.
even god needs a hand,
in the practical aspects of caring, sometimes.
as the sparrows dart in to consume the crumbs,
i smile at their squabbling
antics....
and come to understand why god loves to watch the
tiny little things.