Independence

Maybe it's a state of mind,
that you're either in,
or without. Like the baby sparrow
stranded on the street-side,
wings too weak to right itself up.
Mama-bird keeps sighing inside
that panoply of pine. Must have been others
when the nest turned over. They're long gone now,
so levity's proven. There's another siren.
Maybe you saw it as a shiver,
nestling to borders, instead of
how it's steadying itself again
before chancing on horizon.