A Poem Inspired by my Students

Sparrows

At my office door

the students jostle

each other, fighting

and fluttering,

cocking their heads

at a jaunty angle.

Wings flapping,

they chirp anxiously

in a new language

trying out the words,

uncertain of what

they want or whether

they will get it.

One or two have pin feather

awkwardly sprouting,

and they squawk overly loud,

wanting to be the first to be noticed –

the first to be fed.

They circle and flit

eying me like some

dropped grain,

some new crumb

of different,

uncertain of whether

they should boldly dash in

to grab it before the others do;

tentative and leery of a trap.

Some will return to search

and scratch

among the English

for the half-eaten kernel of a word,

while others will peck among

the shells for the odd phrase

or quirky idiom to sing.

But maybe,

maybe if I'm lucky

a couple will settle,

eat from my hand and teach me

to fly.