Beyond the desperate barren reach
Of branches stretching to the sky —
Between the boughs of oak and beech,
A single sparrow, flying by.

We’ve long ago grown tired of snow;
Bid mittens, hats, and coats good-bye,
We’re hoping he has spring in tow,
This single sparrow, flying by.

We check the forecast with no joy,
Tune into weather with a sigh,
And even still, our spirits bouyed:
A single sparrow, flying by.

A sign of life! A sign of spring!
Some abject proof we can’t deny:
If only we could hear him sing,
This single sparrow, flying by.

Fly on, my friend; you bear the hope
That better, warmer days are nigh.
Until then, let our dreams elope
With this sole sparrow, flying by.