To the Squabs Displaced from These Bricks and from This World

Dear squab, thanks
for letting us into your home,
and though you now flit
from power line to telephone pole
out in the great humidity,
your gray shadow still sneaks
past the corner of my eye
late this Friday night
in our former grocery.

As the oven sputters,
young hearts flutter,
and our regulars coo
to one another,
there is still much of you
between these walls.

Thanks again, squab;
I’ll help add a twig or two
to your next nest
in Houston or in the sky.

 

-Shafer Hall

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