The sparrows (Once again, I was wrong)

The sparrows (Once again, I was wrong)

Once again, I was wrong.
And didn’t even realize
I thought I was right.
Just looked at the weeds’
sharp heads and assumed
no one would want to eat them
	
pulled the plants by the roots
across half the garden 
as the spring sun went down. 

The next morning, 
striped sparrows
flushed through the yard.
Clipped seed heads
by the base, swallowed whole
their three-inch spines. 

Maybe I don’t need to say it but I will:

how many times this happens each day,
what I think I know painting itself 
across the ceiling of my mind, 
furrowing the skyline,
tinting the window glass. 

And how many times
I don’t see the sparrow,
miss the contradiction,
look past the world glancing back,
whispering defiantly:

think again.

Originally Published in Verse-Virtual, May 2023.

Photo by Mike Von.