Sometimes it gets quiet at art fairs. There is often a bit of a lull around lunch time. If I’m sitting at the back of the booth at the desk, I’ll often use the time to work on my bucket list item of more Shakesperean sonnets than Shakespeare. Flagstaff was productive and I was able to write a sonnet each of the three days. I sometimes have to search around for inspiration, Saturday’s inspiration was the nest of sparrows within tweeting distance.
Sparrows
The sparrow has more color than you’d think
(but painters know burnt umber, wine, ecru)
and though they seem to flit off in a wink
the observer sees the little things they do.
Sometimes they’ll dust in patches of soft sand
and often in a puddle from the rain
with wriggling bodies, wings aflutter, and
the knowledge that they’ll soon feel fresh again.
The well-trained ear can spot each different call –
the black-throat’s glockenspiel and house’s cheep
the white-crowned sparrow’s sweet melodious trill
and common to them all, the young chick’s tweet.
So if you ever thought sparrows were plain
Take another look and listen, think again!
