A sparrow flew into my room last week.
The doors were open and the weather mild.
The creature panicked – flailing wings and beak
against three window panes, freaked out and wild,
till finally it managed to exit –
in darting arc to jacaranda tree.
It left some down and drops of brownish shit,
but left my place without an injury.

Today I heard a thump and turned to find
another sparrow, stunned, beside my chair.
It flopped and flapped a little, but my mind
expected death. I moved it to the air
outside, the garden, laid on nothing hard.
Relieved I saw that bird soon leave my yard.