Nathaniel Taggart

The little birds seem happy. Mostly in pairs.
Some not. They bumble and hop. Sparrows?
Yes, sparrows:
                           Pairs of sparrows hop and
bumble. Bumble and hop.

Chirps both blurt! (begin) and seamless
flow (continue). Then cease. Then blurt.
Shadows do too—shake with the
tree that casts them. In and out. Shade and
light. Sparrows dash:   
                                       Sparrows CHIRP
and chirpchirp. Dance in the jitterbug light.

Fleur-de-lis lanterns swing on the shade
tree. The wind picks up. They could collide.
Collide and shatter? The sparrows have left
the scene:
                   Is it safe under glass in a wind
storm, for sparrows?

Disconnect and connect. The more peopled
the patio, the more sparrows. Our cast crumbs.
Our flagstone spaces. Dash and line. Think
like this:                






I can't stop thinking and writing about language. Particularly, how a word for something is inseparable from our appraisal of it.