Discerning.

Sparrows abound down the streets where I live on the edge of the park.  Just after dark the other morning I came upon a swirling puddle of them, chirping, shrill, walking, on my way to the gas station at the top of the hill.  Remembering a few weeks before, baking, taking something from the oven, I studied hundreds in the tops of the trees outside my window. Sparrows, did you know, are said to be a messenger, a harbinger of sorts, often of death or so it is said, yes and there they are everywhere fluttering black clouds all around, they take off and my eyes and my heart try to follow.