Bright Eyes Filled with Sorrow

There was a baby sparrow
thudding against my window.
His outline was mist imprinted,
and his feathers were matted down.
The grass was wet with dew
and raindrops were falling
on the sidewalk, painting a picture
no one could understand,
like fireworks exploding on
the 4th of July.　 I heard a thud,
and from the grass
the sparrow looked at me
through the long glass door.
　
Inside he was a a lost creature
who took solitude in hollow twigs
and never waking from his endless
birdlike trance.　 He is an unearthly world,
full of misunderstood creatures
thudding against the glass.