the echo of glass

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a short fantasy piece set somewhere in historical Venice. ​

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at the end
noise dims
dancers pause.
the room
slowly
empties
​
footsteps fade
merriment taken
to other
shores
dissipation final.

guests scurry away
for Venice
wakes at noon.

lying alone
amidst
dust
accumulated
is a glass sparrow

music has left it
to sing no longer

unbroken
fragile
precious

dust,
its only companion
the glass sparrow
waits

yet,
elegance lingers

the sparrow's intricate wings,
silk sweet soul
warm pulsing chest
remain.

approaching,
a small street urchin etches
through dust
searching for food,
shelter,
warmth

his eyes flutter on the sparrow
cupping it delicately in hand
taking it under his wing

forgotten
on a table,
a loaf of bread uneaten
grapes roll in their bowl
a water pitcher,
half full

he gathers these
in a discarded milk wire,
wraps grapes tenderly
in a serviette,
tucks sparrow
gently
in his one pocket.

he wanders,
coming to rest
in an alcove with a large window.
Venice glitters beyond,
twinkling night sky
melding with starlit rambles

unfolding his feast onto the milk wire,
shaping the serviette round,
into which he nestles glass sparrow.

they eat
first bite, sparrow.
second, boy.

two companions
receiving goodbye lights
of a city
never really
their own.

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