She likes to nest in the seasonal swag on our front door,
even with better natural options in the burning bush on the corner
or the Japanese maple in our neighbor’s yard,
our roosting house sparrow waits, en garde.
Perhaps it is the safety of a solid wall,
the camouflage of her twigs and grasses and straw
among the bundles of dried vine, hydrangea blossoms, glistening and false.
or this perfect window to a world as she “twee-deeps” her calls
Perhaps she shares some insight to other songbirds
hidden within the sound of her chirping words.