Stone on my path
perhaps? But a sparrow
side-lain, staring.

The flight quite swift
arrow-taut toward water
fooled its foolish heart.

How could pea-eyes
know traps between air
and sky could seem nothing?

Tiny hearts spurt, sighting
their longing: to a sweet sparrow
wings on water.

Flitting straight on,
heart on wings
the water a beak within —

but glass
is also water.