bakery sparrow

the bakery sparrow
does not wear the apron
of a baker

and he does not put his money down
to buy a flat white
or a latte
and a sweet bun

he doesn’t wield a mop
doesn’t
serve at table
nor does he exchange
nothings
over a morning tea slice

he plays no banjo
on a Sunday morning
for the tourist trade

but he hops and he bounces
from the ground
onto a table
takes the crumbs that have been
left behind

and he chirps to his friends
that he has found
good pickings
good breakfast

they join him
his brothers and his sisters
there can be no doubt
this is a good time

the bakery sparrow takes a moment
to fluff
and shake his tail

it’s been a good morning
everybody’s been fed
and they are happy
so it’s time
under the middle morning sun
to go home

Frank Prem Poetry