The sparrow stands upon the fence,
his fight for survival is intense.
Think not that he merely flits around
filling the air with lovely sound.
This bird's every sense is heightened
By each nearby movement he is frightened.
That cat, yon hawk, the monster with machine in hand
Could any one bring his life to end.
Poor bird. And he must find insect or seed
He is required to fulfill every need.
And that not of himself alone
Nestlings await him there at home
With open mouth and unseemly squawk.
Oh, thinks he, could I only talk
I'd lecture the Maker of this universe.
No, wait, I would doubtless make it worse.
Oh, look! A cricket there!
Snatch it now, say a prayer.
"For what we are about to receive
Make us truly grateful."