January 16, 1995|By William Amelia

Three stories above the mall fountain,

beyond the plants and the palms,

there is a segmented glass dome,

whose ribs descend to form,

if only in one's mind,

an elongated cage,

a setting better suited for canaries

than for the band of strayed sparrows

that have found this space

and now scurry for crumbs

on the floor of the coffee bar,

warily dart into the fountain

and through the greenery,

then up, up to the dome

to see the sky.


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