today, there is no grand funeral
like that of the death of
a statesman

or that simple funeral fit for
a laborer in the world of
mankind,

the mother sparrow grieves over
the death of her fledgling

there is no burial
they do not know what are white flowers
their meaning

the torn wings are carried by the worker-ants
some useless feathers are left above a sand mound

soon there are skeletons of frail bones
baked throughout the year by the sun

soon only dusts
the mother sparrow as we knew it from science
does not keep a memory

they keep on their far journey
nest from nest to nest on those seasons

RIC S. BASTASA

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-mother-sparrow-grieves-upon-the-untimely-death-of-her-beloved-fledgling/