Untold, and eagerly waiting
to be picked up
By a grandmother feeding the child.
She narrates us while making morsels
and scraping her hand
against the edges of the plate.
Perched on the threshold
the child listens intently
and gazes at a twittering sparrow.
We are forgotten there at the threshold
till one day beyond the seas;
That twitter of a sparrow brings back
the morsels in twilight
To that child, now a man