Sparrow’s Song

Sparrows that stretch their wings out and flutter branch to branch
migrate for the winter to the barn at Daddy’s ranch.
I ring a bell and they emerge from their hidden places.
Some flutter to my back as I bend down to tie my laces.
I stretch my arm to spread their seed, then try to stand real still
as they execute crash landings to land and  eat their fill.
Others fidget up above, lining the barn’s high beam,
like substitutes awaiting their chance to join the team.
Ferrets  slinking through the hay , their teeth as sharp as lances
keep close watch on wings and beaks, waiting for their chances
to pounce on unsuspecting birds, so memories once sweet
given darker endings, may mean nostalgia’s defeat.

Word menu for the Sunday Whirl this week is: sparrows bell migrate emerge flutter still stretch slinking memories branches fidgeting crash